Somewhere No One Knows My Name
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Set around "Headhunters". -The hammer blow comes when she least expects it, and it's devastating. He wants to follow another cop, and not just any other cop. He wants to follow Ethan Slaughter, this uncouth meathead from Gangs whose last three partners all died on the job under questionable circumstances, earning Slaughter the unfortunate nickname: "The Widowmaker."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Set around the (unhappy) time period of "Headhunters," and going AU from there. Time will flex a little at points to aid the story. Nothing major. Chapters one to eleven are written. Should be around fourteen in total._

* * *

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 1

She's sick with it. Heartsick. For days now she's been coming in to work and he's either absent altogether or he's there but he's still not really there, still absent. And no matter how she tries to get to the bottom of it, in fact, the harder she tries, the surlier and more distant he becomes.

The hammer blow comes when she least expects it, and it's devastating. He wants to follow another cop, and not just any other cop. He wants to follow Ethan Slaughter, this uncouth meathead from Gangs whose last three partners all died on the job under questionable circumstances, earning Slaughter the unfortunate nickname:"The Widowmaker."

He's leaving her, breaking up their partnership, though he plays it off as no more than hunting for fresh character insight to spice up his next Nikki Heat. It's painful to watch him act so recklessly, to behave so out of character, to see him allow himself to be put in danger, used and abused by this foulmouthed throwback, who should never have been allowed a badge, let alone a gun.

A couple of weeks in, she finds herself exhausted and in tears one afternoon during a session with Dr. Burke. And that's it. She's done all her crying – over her mother, over her father's addiction, over being shot, over men. She's angry and confused and she is _done_.

So the very next day she goes to see Gates.

The deal is a month to start with, if she agrees to her leave being unpaid and to her benefits being suspended. Gates fights her a little but not very hard, and that fact is telling in itself; how her attention has wandered, how her heart is broken. How it's starting to interfere with her work. She believes she's waited too long, missed her window with Castle, and now he's picked up his toys and moved on to something shinier, easier, less complicated. They can all see it – her hurt, her disappointment and frustration with herself. Lanie, Ryan and Esposito have all had ringside seats to the Slaughter insult. Even her father has picked up on something during their infrequent phone calls and rare Sunday brunches.

So she calls her aunt, packs a suitcase with enough clothes to last her through the end of summer and into early fall, and she books a flight.

* * *

Castle breezes into the precinct with the newfound swagger he's been trying out ever since he teamed up with the Gang Unit's biggest jackass.

"Hey, Javi. Seen Beckett?" he asks, his face a hardened mask, part sneer, part bluff that has, in truth, been fooling no one.

Esposito doesn't even look up from his desk when he answers. "She ain't here, yo."

"So…where can I find her?" He looks around, feet ever shifting like he can't quite stand still and he hopes she'll just materialize out of thin air to help with whatever shit Slaughter has dropped him in the middle of now.

Esposito gives him a glare that says, "Not on my watch," and Castle's eyes immediately slide towards the softer target of Ryan's face.

"What about you, Kev? Any ideas?"

"Can we help you with something, Castle?" he asks coolly. "Thought you were working Gangs now?"

"I am…I am. I just need to ask Beckett something." He sounds cagey as hell, moving around all the while. Like a shark - stay still and you die.

"You mean you need to ask Beckett _for_ something?" Ryan corrects, surprising the crap out of everyone. Himself included.

"Can't a friend ask another friend for help? Come on. What about all those Knicks tickets I got you guys. And my Ferrari? That worn out clutch has _got_ to be worth something."

"Loyal friends can. Guys that break the code?" Esposito shakes his head. " _Nah._ "

"If she's not in court…" Castle pauses, looking from one cop to the other for clues or facial ticks that might give them away. He gets nothing. "Then she must be on a day off _maybe._ Doing laundry at home or…"

Still nothing.

"Aw, come on, guys. Tell me I don't have to go ask Gates."

Before either Ryan or Esposito can comment, the Captain pops her head out of her office. "Ask Gates what?" she demands in her trademark clipped tone. "And that's _Captain_ Gates to you, _Mister_ Castle."

Castle's eyes pop wide and he spins around. "Yes, Sir. My apologies."

"I thought you were off fanboying with that schoolyard bully from Gangs?"

"Not you too," Castle groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, over his stubble-covered jaw.

"In fact, why exactly are you here, Mr. Castle? My men have work to do. I hope you're not keeping them back."

Ryan and Esposito smirk from behind their monitors while Castle gets a dressing down from their boss.

"I was looking for Detective Beckett, sir. And I have no intention of keeping your men back in any capacity."

"Detective Beckett?" Gates purrs, her mouth twisting into a feral grin. "You came in here looking for Detective Beckett?"

"Y—yes. Is there a problem?" Castle's anxiety levels begin to rise. "S—something wrong with Beckett I should know about? I am her partner after all."

Gates crosses her arms, leans against a file cabinet to enjoy this moment of torment for the writer. "Are you sure about that, Mr. Castle?"

"What do you—?" he frowns, his hairline beginning to bead with sweat, his stomach starting to cramp. He glances at the boys and back at their boss again. "Of course I'm sure." He doesn't sound sure.

"Well, if Detective Beckett hasn't seen fit to keep you up to speed with her life, it's not my place to betray her confidence."

"What are you talking about? Just where _is_ Beckett?" He's starting to sound shrill and panicked. He needs to tamp it down or this woman will give him _nothing_. She does not respond to weakness, as he knows from past experience.

"I think it's time you left my bullpen, Mr. Castle. I'm sure your new partner has some crazy, dangerous, borderline illegal scheme he wants you to help him pull off. Good day to you. Oh, and good luck. I get the sense you'll need it."

Gates turns on her heel, goes back into her office and closes the door firmly behind her. This act is meant to signal Castle's time to depart. He has a massive creeping unease scaling his spine, his shirt suddenly feels damp around the armpits and it sticks to his back beneath the new brown leather jacket he had to buy after trying to bribe Slaughter with his old one.

He turns around to face the guys, only to find both heads buried behind their computer screens, eyes downcast on open files, though no typing or writing is taking place.

"Guys, where is Beckett? Look…you've got me worried now. Is she out sick? What did Gates mean about plans?"

"Castle, Captain's right," Ryan tells him somberly. "If Beckett had wanted you to know, she'd have told you herself."

Castle spins in a frantic circle, raking both hands through his hair. "This can't be happening," he mutters to himself.

Esposito is the one who pipes up first. "Slaughter's really got you on the hook this time, huh? You look like you need Beckett's help real bad. Just what did you promise that goon?"

Castle shakes his head. "It's not about that, I swear. Look, if she's hurt or sick or in trouble of some kind—"

Esposito snorts. " _You're_ the guy who's gonna save her?"

"I'm her partner. I'm her _friend_ ," he insists, indignant at the way he's being treated by two people he also considered friends.

"Yeah, some friend," Esposito mouths off.

"She's gone, Castle," Ryan finally offers. "Took off. Best thing you can do is just forget her. Keep moving on like you already started."

"Yeah, keep walking," Esposito chips in, nudging his chin in the direction of the elevator.

Castle stands his ground. "Forget her?" he asks, horror and confusion woven through his words. " _Forget her?_ Are you two _serious_?"

"As a heart attack, man," Ryan says, making his face look tough lest he cave and tell Castle what he wants to know.

"I can't just forget her."

"You've been doing a pretty good job until now," Esposito points out.

"You…you all think I forgot about Kate?" He looks dumfounded by this news.

"You walked away, Castle. Started following another cop."

"She's my _partner_ ," he says, fathomlessly.

"No, see, she _was_ your partner. But you broke the code when you started riding around with that wahoo from Gangs."

"I was just looking for a fresh angle, a new character."

Ryan makes a scoffing sound. "You used her and you walked away. Found a new muse to run after."

Castle looks horrified. "Slaughter was never my muse. That guy could never be _anybody's_ muse."

"You've been gone awhile, bro. Even before your trip to Gangs. You think she didn't feel it?"

Feel what?" Castle asks, sounding edgy and uncomfortable.

"How cold you got."

His expression hardens, all emotion forced from his eyes which become unreadable, guarded. "I had my reasons," he replies, grimly. Bitterness, which he's unable to hide, seeps into his words.

"Yeah, well, now Beckett has hers."

"Where is she?" he asks again, his bitterness turning to worry.

"What do _you_ care?"

"I care. I care a _lot._ "

"You sure you're not just worried about your books?"

Castle sighs, sinking down into his old chair. He tips his head forward, suddenly exhausted. "It stopped being about the books a long time ago. Everyone knows that," he admits, staring at the floor. "Even my _mother_ knows that."

"So…why'd you hurt her?"

He can't tell the truth and say, "She hurt me first." Though this is a fact, it sounds pathetic, petty and vindictive.

"I didn't mean to hurt her. If I hurt her I'm sorry. Just tell me where she is and I'll apologize. Make it up to her."

"A weekend loan of your Ferrari's not going to cut it this time, Castle."

"And Beckett doesn't like the Knicks," Ryan adds.

"Look, I'll do whatever it takes to win her back. Just tell me where she is," he pleads.

But Esposito is unimpressed. "Win her back? You think you ever had her in the first place?"

Castle stares his friend in the eye. "For a while, yeah. I thought I did."

"So why'd you let her go?"

"I found out she doesn't exactly feel the same way."

Esposito doesn't even blink. "She tell you that to your face?"

"No, not exactly.

"So, how'd you figure?"

"I overheard something." He doesn't want to elaborate and breach Beckett's privacy.

"Mrs. R never tell you not to listen at keyholes when you were a kid?"

"I know what I know, okay. Now will you help me out or not?"

"Why should we?"

"What do you guys want? Shake me down? Okay, lay it out there. What will it take this time?"

"We don't want anything from you except the truth."

Castle looks wary. "What truth?"

"How do you really feel about Beckett?"

"Right now, pretty damn frantic."

"Castle…" Ryan warns.

"Okay, okay. I…I love her. But she already knows that." He looks utterly dejected.

"You told her?"

"At Montgomery's funeral."

"Perfect timing," Ryan mutters, rolling his eyes.

"When she got shot," Castle clarifies, shooting Ryan a look.

"What she say?"

"What do you mean, what did she say? She told me she couldn't remember any of it."

"Does that sound like the Beckett you know?"

Castle sighs, exhausted. "No. That's what I overheard her telling Bobby Lopez in interrogation. She said she remembered every second. I guess she just doesn't feel the same way and she's too embarrassed to admit it."

"And you've decided this all by yourself? Without even asking her about it?"

"What's to ask? If she loved me back we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

"Why do you think she left without telling you?"

Castle shrugs. "Who knows. She doesn't care. I just don't factor in her life anymore."

"Ever think it might be a cause and effect thing?" Esposito suggests.

"Such as?"

"You know, for a smart guy you can be remarkably dumb."

He laughs, drops his face into his hands. "I get that a lot. Mostly from Beckett."

"Let me put it another way. You think she enjoyed coming in to work everyday, looking at that empty chair where her partner used to sit, watching him pal around with the NYPD's biggest thug with a badge? Huh? No more coffee, no more stupid jokes, no more crazy-ass theories. Just sitting at her desk day after day waiting for you to end up in the hospital or worse…on Lanie's slab?"

Castle presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. "I'm telling you, she doesn't care."

"And I'm telling you, that is utter bullshit and you know it."

"So, what? You're saying she left because me not being around anymore upset her?"

Esposito clapped his hands. "Give the man a round of applause. Took you a while, but you got there in the end."

"So…what do I do now?" Castle stands and starts to pace the floor again. "Assuming you numbskulls are right."

"You're asking us? Cagney and Lacey, I think he called us once," Ryan says, consulting with his partner.

"I'm asking my two good friends for help. If you think I still stand a chance with Beckett…" He turns away to look at his partner's desk, at his own empty chair, and then he turns back again. "And you still think I'd be any good for her."

"Get your head out of your ass and, yeah, maybe."

Castle takes a deep breath and puffs up to his full height. "Look, forget Slaughter. Slaughter is _gone_ as of right now. Just tell me where I can find Kate and I will be the best damned partner any cop and any woman has ever had."

"Those are big promises, my friend. How do we know you can carry through?"

"You don't. You'll just have to trust me."

The two cops look at one another for a second. They seem to communicate via telepathy, and then they nod once, in unison, temping Castle to crack a joke about how in sync they are. But this only makes him ache for Beckett all the harder, and he's afraid to push his luck by annoying them right now.

"If you care about her like you say you do, start acting like it. Go after her, man, before she makes the biggest mistake of her life and stays up there," Esposito implores him.

Castle nods vigorously, turning on his heel immediately to leave in a hurry, before he stops dead near the door and turns back. "Where exactly is _there_?"

"Maine. Beckett's gone to Portland, Maine."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I stopped watching Castle after 7x08. I have yet to pluck up the courage to soldier on. This is why my stories are all stuck in seasons gone by. Since they got married, and even before, I feel as if very little about their relationship has been handled well, or even realistically. I wonder what personal lives the writers lead. I wonder if anyone ever taught them anything about how to hold onto a loyal audience after you've pushed them to the brink and back so many times. I wonder why they rubbished the "Moonlighting curse" and now play right into its hands. I wonder if they even like their jobs anymore...all of them. I used to love Castle. It gave me a start in writing and it brought me many new friends. Now I just feel sad at how it's gone._

 _But I digress..._

* * *

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 2

Castle's first problem when he gets back home, he assumes will be Alexis. As it turns out, he couldn't be more wrong. His daughter is sick of seeing him slalom between pitiful, morose moping and reckless, dark anger. So this shift in mood towards purposeful activity, even if she isn't one hundred percent on board with the intent of his purpose, is a welcome change.

"How long will you be gone?" she asks, helping him refold sweaters, tees and casual shirts, and then place them into the largest acceptable size of carry-on suitcase.

"Depends," the writer murmurs, crouched in front of his office safe counting fifties and twenties before reaching back inside for his passport.

"I thought you said you were going to Portland," Alexis asks, her voice betraying her suspicion, as she leans against the doorjamb watching his every move.

"This is Beckett. Pays to be prepared," her father tells her, while he relocks the safe and turns to stand.

"I hope she's worth it," the girl mutters sullenly, her eyes trained on the floor.

"She is."

"And I hope she appreciates what you're doing for her."

" _Trying_ to do, sweetie," he says, pausing by the door to stroke his daughter's hair. "I don't even know if she'll listen to me yet."

He plants a quick kiss on her forehead as he explains this, before moving on.

Alexis' pale face flushes pink when she say, "If she doesn't she's—"

"A mile, Alexis," Castle calmly interjects to smother his daughter's flash of anger. "What have I said about—"

She sighs. "I know, I know. Walk a mile in her shoes…but it's _so unfair_."

"What's unfair, pumpkin?" Castle murmurs, distracted by packing his laptop and chargers into his leather messenger bag.

"That you have to do this… _again._ Chase after her."

He drops the pair of socks he was holding to focus completely on his daughter. For years he has tried to be a kind, tolerant man, to forgive rather than bear grudges for the good of himself and those around him. He had hoped he led by example. He hates that his daughter might view him as something of a pushover, a doormat where Kate Beckett is concerned, for deciding to live this way. He tries to see the best in the world and the people in it, while making a lot of money from writing about the worst that human beings can do to one another. So this is his way of paying back - by being good, generous, forgiving and kind-hearted - and trying to teach his daughter to do the same is part of this quest.

"I've been pretty difficult to live with lately. Don't think I don't know that. And I'm sorry you had to watch that, Alexis." He clears his throat, picks up the socks and stuffs them into a free corner of his case. "But that's over now. One way or another I'm going to fix this or..." He breaks off, doesn't like thinking about the alternative.

"Or?" Alexis prompts.

"Or move on with my life." He sounds resolute, truthful. He sees this reflected back in his daughter's pleasantly surprised expression.

Alexis takes a deep breath and draws herself up, trying for magnanimous when she says, "I hope you can fix it, dad. I know how much you care about Detective Beckett."

Castle gives his daughter a hug. "You're so, so smart," he tells her, squeezing even tighter. "I'll call you tonight when I get there, okay?

Then he shoulders his bag and wheels his suitcase out of the bedroom, giving his home a fond sweep and his daughter a (somewhat forced) smile before he opens the front door.

"Look after grams. Hide the vodka if you have to," he adds with a braver wink than he feels. "I love you, okay?"

"Love you too, daddy. Be safe," Alexis says, waving her father off with a brave smile to match his own.

* * *

The one hour twenty minute flight from JFK to Portland's main airport passes in the blink of an eye. The airplane is somewhere over Boston before he even registers the mountain climb he has ahead of him. He's been thinking about how insufferable he's been - moping all these weeks - when, if the boys are right, Kate has felt in equal pain watching him run around with an unscrupulous, dangerous bully. He could kick himself for being so pigheaded, for not simply having it out with her the second he overheard her conversation with Bobby Lopez. How much easier that seems now - to call Beckett out on her lies, to demand an explanation that would have moved them forward in some direction, either together or apart. Yes, how much easier, were it not for the old, dysfunctional patterns of behavior that exist, ingrained, between them. Far easier than tearing up the coast to try and find her in a city of over sixty-six thousand people with no leads and no one else to help him.

With no luggage to collect, he's standing at the AVIS rental desk within a half hour of landing. The female rental agent asks him a list of perfunctory questions he's heard tens of times before: information about returning the car with a full tank of fuel, asking whether he wants the optional navigation system, roadside assist, blah, blah and finally whether he would like to upgrade for just an extra $100 a week. He takes a Standard Elite SUV since he has no idea how traceable Beckett will be, whether she's staying out of town or in the city itself.

He finds the red Chevy Traverse, with only 4,000 miles on the clock and that new car smell, sitting in bay 57, as promised. Once he gets inside the vehicle he lets out a long breath and drops his head into his hands for a second or two of thinking time. It's approaching half past eight at night, the lighting in the parking structure is harsh and depressing. He wants to drive out as soon as possible, to begin making inroads into his search. Only then does he realize that he has no idea where to go and no hotel reservation for the night.

* * *

The Hilton Garden Inn is situated on Jetport Boulevard, right next door to the airport itself and only a few minutes drive from downtown. It's clean and bright and all he needs for the night. His muscles are aching, his back fraught with tension his body has been harboring since his confrontation with Gates and the boys, and their refusal to help him this morning. Other than that she was travelling to this city, Castle has no further information from anyone to help him track Kate down. He also has no idea why she chose this town specifically, what her intentions are in coming here and how long she intends to stay. It's a puzzle, that's for sure, one he feels under-equipped to tackle right now.

He calls Alexis just to check in and let her know he arrived safely. Then he takes a long, hot shower and changes into sweats and a t-shirt. His room comes equipped with a microwave and a refrigerator, so he goes down to the hotel's cutely named "Pavilion Pantry" to select an over-priced microwave meal, a drink and some chocolate. He spends the rest of the evening eating mediocre pasta, while he lays this mystery out like it's a missing person case, which in a big way it is.

The person who's missing is not, of course, at issue. He knows a lot about her, about what drives her. He knows her background, her friends, work colleagues and family. Well, he knows her dad. Motivation is still partly a blank. She loves her work so much he can't imagine her wanting to be away from the precinct for too long. But from what the boys have said, she basically up and left town (and the job she loves) because of him. She left because of his stupidity in getting tangled up with Slaughter and his cowardice at not flat out asking her about her memory of the day she got shot. This last part is the missing piece in the puzzle between them that Kate doesn't know. She has no idea he overheard her in interrogation and she therefore has no idea that he knows she lied about hearing him tell her he loved her. This gap in her understanding must have made his surly, cold, petulant behavior towards her seem a complete mystery. She left town with no idea how he feels about her, other than that the warm friendship they'd cultivated recently, the closeness they had begun to share, had been turned off quite suddenly, like a faucet capped at source.

For Castle's part, he is rightly hurt by her lie, and he still doesn't understand the reason for it. They talk in riddles and subtext a lot of the time, and they're more careful and guarded with one another than they are with many other people they know. But he thought that boundary line was blurring, softening. That's why her lie hit him harder than it might have before. Trust was one of the few things he believed he could count on as a non-negotiable between them. So to discover her deceit rocked him to his core. This is one of the things he hopes to confront her with when he finally tracks her down. Plain speaking once and for all, lies and cowardice be damned.

* * *

He opens his laptop, generates a new spreadsheet and begins to tackle the issue with a timeline of what he knows so far. But it's only as he lays down the bare facts that he realizes, with horror, that he's been so caught up in his rollercoaster ride with Slaughter that she has a six-day jump on him already. He hasn't seen her in nearly a week and he didn't even notice, so deep was his head up his own ass. She could be anywhere. Last headed for Portland doesn't mean she ended up in Portland or stopped here for any longer than a day or two before moving further on up the coast or inland. She could be deep in the mountains of Vermont by now. Hell, she could even be in Canada at this rate.

He finishes his congealing pasta with a mindless round of feeding fork after forkful into his mouth, just like he used to with Alexis when she was a fussy baby and seemed to take hours to eat even the smallest snack. Then he deals with the trash, brushes his teeth and climbs into bed. The TV screen lights the room with a bluish glow that flickers and changes color from time-to-time. He picks up his cell phone for the umpteenth time that day and checks for messages. When he called Beckett earlier he got only an impersonal, generic voicemail message from her carrier that related to her number alone, but no name. Her usual message has been erased and it makes him wonder if she's even using the same phone anymore. Leaving her job is extreme behavior for Beckett, leaving town even more so. Just how much more effort has she made to ensure she can't be tracked down, he's beginning to wonder?

He dozes off without meaning to, waking half an hour later with _Dateline_ on the TV and his phone stuck to the side of his face. He checks the screen but there's still no message from Beckett. He debates the time, gets out of bed to pace, and then after a minute or so of wearing out the carpet, he shakes his head in a "what-the-heck" motion before hitting the number he has pulled up on screen.

He clears his throat several times while the phone rings. And then, before he feels anything like fully prepared, his call is answered with a quiet, clipped hello.

"Mr. Beckett? Jim? Rick Castle, sir. Hope I'm not calling too late."

* * *

 _Short message for the cowardly "guest" anons out there: I will not apologize for my view point, since this is MY story. There are stories out there to suit everyone's taste. Since you know my work and dislike it, stop reading. That is my gift of advice to you. Go in peace...somewhere else. If you read and review any more chapters of this story, you will only confirm to me that you are secretly enjoying it. You know who you are. Grow up and stop wasting my time._


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 3

He's awake at 4am for a nocturnal visit to the bathroom. When he peers through the gauzy curtains that screen the window from the parking lot behind heavy, blackout drapes, the sky is mauve, the light more than he expects at this hour and yet less than he needs.

Castle goes back to bed for another couple of hours, tossing and turning while trying not to think too hard about the mistakes and the stupid, prideful errors of judgment that have led to him be here in this place where he knows no one and where, for now at least, no one wants to know him.

He tries to rework his own assumptions, to look for new ways to interpret Beckett's confession in the box. But his mind is shot from days spent riding with Slaughter, long days and nights where making it through a shift was like walking a damned tightrope wearing ski boots. And that was before you got to the criminals. He lies back on the bed and tries to decompress, to be "mindful and present" as his mother's always telling him. But tuning into Beckett's psyche isn't working after such an extended period of physical separation. He's looking inside himself for answers only his partner can give him. So he abandons that tack for now, safely storing his questions for later, for a time when he might be able to eyeball Beckett directly and ask her for the truth.

She has an aunt he knew nothing about, a woman he's never even heard her speak of before. Born in 1949, Elizabeth Perkins, née Houghton, was more or less all Jim Beckett told him about his sister-in-law on the phone last night. Other than the single most illuminating fact: that she was last known to be living in Portland, Maine, right before her husband, Stanley, died. Kate's father explained that he had lost touch with his late wife's older sister shortly after Johanna was murdered, the way he had handled her death not being a method church-going Aunt Libby could approve of. He knew that Libby and Kate had stayed in touch, exchanging birthday cards and maybe the odd phone call at Christmas, but he wasn't aware that they were especially close and he didn't have a current address for Libby since she had moved house, downsizing after she lost her husband.

Jim Beckett had ended their bizarre phone call with something of a plea and a warning for Castle, before making him promise to call as soon as he tracked Kate down.

"Don't let her throw her life away, son. She loves that job and God knows it pulled her up by the bootstraps when she needed it. But there are other things in life she should be loving more. By all means go after her. But when you find her, don't let her bark scare you off. Oh, and say hi to Libby for me, if that's where she's gone to ground this time."

 _This time._

These words haunt Castle with memories of all the weeks he lost her to her dad's cabin during her recovery. He goes over and over those empty days until he finally gets up at six, too wound up to sleep. He left her alone back then, believing her safe and cared for by Josh. Believing she had no need of his help or support. Well, not this time. He's going after her to have it out, and then let the chips fall where they may.

* * *

He makes coffee in his room while the shower is running, firing up his laptop to continue his search for Kate with the new information he gleaned from her dad the night before.

An online search of the Maine Ancestry website turns up one possible result. Stan and Elizabeth Perkins married in 1975 when Elizabeth was twenty-six years old. Stan Perkins was a native Mainer, or Maineiac as Castle is tickled to find is also the demonym for people from Maine. The website lists Stan's year of death as 2002. Beside Libby's name are listed the words: "This person is presumed living". The site does not offer last known addresses. For that he must head to the library or search the Internet in the hope that Aunt Libby is an avid Facebook user, though from the brief description Jim Beckett gave, he doubts it.

As he drinks his coffee he briefly thinks about calling the boys to ask for their help, to get them to pull a few strings on Kate's behalf. But the idea doesn't fly for very long. If Kate had wanted to be found she'd have left an address with Lanie or the guys. The fact that she hasn't even told her own father where she was headed speaks volumes. No, he'll have to put in the legwork on this one himself and work it like Kate has taught him – use all available information sources at his fingertips, ask questions, talk to people, walk the streets if he has to. Someone has to know where she is.

While he's dressing, another thought strikes him. He scrambles to the nightstand and opens the bottom drawer. Sure enough an untouched copy of the Portland White Pages sits, just waiting to be called upon, in the very bottom of the drawer. The cover tells him he could search the directory online. But with the jumbo size book already in his hands, he decides to do it old school.

* * *

Kate's bones rattle as she rides the old bike along the last stretch of lane. She can smell the sea, and her hair curls around her face due to all the moisture and salt in the air. Her teeth chatter and her finger joints vibrate when she hits the final few potholes in the dirt lot behind the tackle shop. The jarring sensation travels up her arms to her elbows and shoulders, and then suddenly there's grass, and the bike slows by itself on this softer, more forgiving surface.

Dan Harper, the owner of _Milo's Fish Camp_ , waves to her from the deck. He's off-loading a catch brought ashore by a local fisherman, and Kate can already smell the fresh seafood from one hundred yards away, mingling with the fumes of marine diesel coming from the boat's idling engine.

"Hey, Dan," she yells, giving him a wave. She drops the bike by the back door of the restaurant, leaving it propped up on one pedal while the other one spins like a pinwheel, and she hurries to help her boss with the Styrofoam cooler boxes full of freshly caught fish and the bushel baskets of shrimp now sitting stacked up on the dockside.

"Thanks, Stevie. Hey, you're here early," he notes, squinting at his red sports watch and threatening to topple a tray of iced halibut in the process.

"Too hot. Couldn't sleep," Kate shrugs. Her hair is tied back in a low ponytail and she's wearing a red and white bandana over her head like a scarf. The paisley patterned square of cotton keeps her hair out of the food and sweat out of her eyes while she serves customers and buses tables for seven hours each day.

She chose the name Stevie when she arrived in town, keen to keep a low profile with the locals, unwilling to open her past or her life back in New York to the gossip of her coworkers at the restaurant or her aunt's church group friends. They think she's the daughter of Libby's late husband's sister, Claudia, and not the little Katie her aunt used to share photos and happy stories about at cook outs and brunches. Until there were no more good stories to tell. And so far, her alias is working for her. Being Stevie lets her behave differently than she might at home when she stays to have a drink with the other girls and some of the kitchen porters after work. And when she's dealing with a difficult customer, she uses her cop training to remind herself that she's still in control. To date she's never had to take things so far that anyone has raised an eyebrow or questioned her afterwards.

Stevie even dresses differently to Kate. She wears ripped jeans with tank tops and worn Chuck Taylors, she wears denim skirts with vintage t-shirts and red leather cowboy boots. Most of all, she dresses nothing like Detective Kate Beckett and even less like Nikki Heat. She has no weight at her hip and no badge in her breast pocket, her suits and heels are all back in storage in New York City, with her dying house plants and her aching heart. She's found somewhere no one knows her name and she is going to make sure it stays that way for as long as possible.

* * *

Castle walks up the pretty front path of 47 Parson's Road in Back Cove. The sun is hot and he's desperate for a drink of something cold. It's close to lunchtime when he knocks on the pale green front door and then steps back to wait, admiring the roses that line the old, herringbone brick path while he does so.

After a short time the door opens and a tall, slim, dark-haired woman of around sixty answers. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mrs. Elizabeth Perkins," Castle informs her in his most polite and charming manner. He already knows he has the right house: the resemblance between this woman and the photographs he's seen of Johanna Beckett are unmistakable.

" _I'm_ Elizabeth Perkins," replies Kate's aunt. "And you are?'

Before Castle can answer with the truth or a lie she puts on a pair of fancy, purple-framed glasses she has suspended on a cord around her neck. "Oh my," she exclaims as she peers at him with her hand pressed to her midsection. "You're the mystery writer, Richard Castle. I'd know your face anywhere. What on _earth_ are you doing at my door? Did I finally win the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstake?" she asks, looking around outside for a camera crew or some bimbo with an outsize check.

Castle stutters, his mind struggling to form any kind of response. He's still grasping for words when the older woman laughs uproariously as she pitches forward, veined hands slapping her thighs in quite violent mirth.

"Oh, I had you for a second," she forces out, breathless with glee as she points at him.

"So…you know who I am?" Castle clarifies.

"Of course, I know. Said as much, didn't I?" Aunt Libby reminds him.

Castle can immediately see where Kate gets her steel, her mettle, and her dark sense of humor.

"But…you _do_ understand I'm not here for some kind of celebrity doorstep presentation type thing?"

"Celebrity?" Aunt Libby laughs again, like this is the best joke she's heard in ages. "Katie said you were a funny one. Are you coming in? I'm making tea."

Kate's aunt doesn't wait for an answer. Castle hurries up the steps behind her, questions forming on his lips, words tumbling over one another to get out. "So she's here? Kate's here?"

Her aunt speaks as if she hasn't heard him, and maybe she genuinely hasn't. But this is Kate Beckett we're talking about and, to Castle, her deaf-ear routine comes across more as a bid for avoidance, a way to control the agenda.

"Ham and cheese sandwich okay? I have Earl Grey in the pot. But if you prefer something else…"

So many things in this woman's house have caught Castle's eye.

"Earl Grey is perfect," he mutters, already lost in the treasure trove of Elizabeth Perkin's home.

His gaze darts around from one object to the next, mentally picking them up, examining them, and then placing them back with care. He spies a pair of opera glasses with an intricate mother of pearl decoration around each lens and a large hour glass with a brass stand and black, volcanic sand inside. On a writing desk in the corner there's a letter opener with a vivid streak of bright green malachite inlaid into the handle, and the photographs… Everywhere he looks - on surfaces, on the walls, on the mantelpiece above the fireplace - are framed family photographs that span a couple of centuries.

Sitting atop an upright piano he finds the most recent photographs. He's immediately drawn to one of Kate. She must be about sixteen in the picture, her hair is long and she's wearing a high, frill-necked sweater in maroon or plum, flanked on either side by her parents. It looks like the kind of photograph you might send out inside a Christmas card. Even without proof of the circumstance behind the image, Castle's heart feels heavy to see her with two loving parents, and then to think of her as she is now: largely alone, struggling everyday in life for other people, fighting evil, avarice, the lies, city budget cuts, bureaucracy and politics, as well as her own powerful demons. It's a miracle she gets out of bed some mornings. And then he, of course, had to add to her pile of woe because he felt sorry for himself and was too scared to tell her the truth or call her out on her lie. That he drove her from her home and her job feels shameful now, and his guts twist with self-disgust. There are two parties to the shaky fabric of their relationship, but as usual, Castle attempts to shore things up alone.

Kate bears equal blame for the situation they're in - of course she does. She could have owned up about hearing his graveside confession and asked for a little time. She could have been honest, she could have stuck around and hashed life out. Instead, she chose to run. That she is flawed and selfish at times, there is no doubt. But Richard Castle sees life through the lens of his own experience, from his own perspective, and in Castle's world, honor lies in turning the other cheek, bearing the burden of guilt, and in this case, trying to make it right.

* * *

"She's always been a lovely girl. Pretty as a picture."

The pride-filled voice startles him out of his spiraling thoughts, the words no real surprise. He's always been convinced of her beauty. "She still is," Castle says solemnly, placing the photo frame back on top of the piano so that he can help Kate's aunt with the tray she has in her hands.

They sit opposite one another, and the silence is a little awkward at first, the peace inside this neat little home broken only by the sound of knives on plates and teapots disgorging their contents into fine bone china cups.

"Milk?" Aunt Libby asks politely, hovering a white, porcelain jug shaped like a cow in front of him.

"Please," Castle nods, watching with rapt fascination as the milk flows out of the cow's mouth giving the impression that the ruminant is vomiting the white liquid into his cup. He clears his throat once the bizarre spectacle is over.

" _So…_ " He looks around as if what hasn't happened yet might still be on the cards, though his hopes are fading fast. "Is Kate still here? Is she staying with you?"

Libby takes a sip of tea, in no hurry at all to answer him, and then she sets her cup aside and lifts a napkin and her salad plate, which is decorated with local watercolor scenes of cottages and hills, onto her lap, arranging them carefully.

Castle begins to wonder if she is perhaps hard of hearing, and he opens his mouth to repeat himself at greater volume when Libby Perkins asks, "How did you find her?" composed and clear as you like.

* * *

 _A/N: I just want to clear something up about Castle once and for all. I do not hate the character or the show. I do not think he is a doormat. I believe he wants to see the best in people, I think he's kind, generous and tolerant, and he employs these characteristics to the best of his ability until he's pushed to the very limit. Only then do we ever see a flash of anger, in extremis: like when Beckett wanted to run at Maddox. He does this because he's hoping that if he sacrifices himself, he and those around him will end up with the best possible outcome. It's a selfless trait that I admire. I have never seen him as a pushover or a doormat. I'm trying to portray him as close to how I see him on screen as possible, knocking off some of the more annoying bits when I can. We've seen him be this way with his daughter, his mother, Ryan, Espo and Beckett, time without number. It's who he is._

 _Equally, with Beckett, I'm trying to keep her close to the original, while making her more open, so as to move stories forward by them actually talking things through with one another, hashing their issues out. But I blame neither or them and I admire both of them in different ways. If the world had more people like Rick Castle, human shock absorbers, flexible, good people, it would be a better place. Kate is damaged. She's the only child who had her world ripped out from under her when her mother died - in real life, I'd excuse some of her selfish traits since she's been through such a lot and now she's scared to get close to anyone. Castle, by contrast is the only child who had to find a way to get attention and be loved by a woman who wasn't ready to be a mother and certainly not alone. So he's the class clown, the attention seeker, he does all he can to make people love him and that includes putting himself last a lot of the time. But that doesn't make him weak, it makes him strong. I love this show, I fell in love with these characters. I couldn't write about them if I didn't._


	4. Chapter 4

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 4

Castle moves out of the Hilton Garden Inn the very next day. He transplants himself and his meagre collection of belongings to a smart little bed & breakfast in Back Cove, about ten minutes walk from Kate's aunt's house. He tells himself he's not stalking her. It's just prettier, more coastal and he doesn't have to try as hard to sleep over the noise of aircraft taking off and landing early in the morning.

After he explained to Libby Perkins that the boys had told him Kate had gone to Portland, though they didn't really know why, and that he had called her father the previous night to find out if Kate knew anyone in Maine, the older woman had nodded sagely before falling strangely quiet. When he asked if Kate was staying with her she went so far as to swerve the question, and when he pushed the issue all he got out of her was that Kate was out working, that she had picked up a casual, seasonal job as a waitress at a nearby restaurant. Castle sat in dumbfounded silence for several minutes chewing over this startling piece of information, trying to decipher what it might mean for her and, consequently, for him, while Aunt Libby calmly sipped her tea beside him.

At length, she placed her cup down carefully on its saucer and turned towards him. "That you came all this way tells me a lot, Mr. Castle. Katie must be important to you."

Castle sat up taller in his chair. "She is. She really is."

"But that my niece left town without telling you why or where she was going also tells me a lot." The woman was as canny and cool-headed as an old school, cold war spy. "And since she's been here, some of her behavior has given me the distinct impression that she doesn't want to be found."

Castle clasped his hands on his knees and leaned forward, trying not to push but finding himself unable to hold back. "What sort of behavior?"

"She changed her name for one thing."

Castle shook his head, as if eliminating water from his ears. "I…I'm sorry. Did you just say that Kate _changed_ her name?"

"Are you hard of hearing, Mr. Castle? Yes, that's what I said."

"Any idea why? I mean, other than that she doesn't want to be found. Did…did she seem scared to you?" His heart was suddenly hammering. "Was she worried that she was being followed? Pursued by someone?"

"Not everything in life is as mysterious as one of your novels, Mr. Castle. No, I think Katie just wants some time for herself. Time to think. I get the distinct impression she may have had her heart broken back in the city," the woman said, regarding him pointedly over the top of her floral teacup.

The mix of sangfroid and clever humor she managed to display in a single glance was masterful. Libby Perkins already had the power to unnerve Castle with no more than a loaded look. She was beginning to remind him more and more of Kate. Though thankfully she had a distinctively looser tongue than her, considerably more reserved, detective niece.

"Did she tell you that?"

Libby had shaken her head. "She plays her cards close to her chest that one. Always has. Even when she hurt herself as a child, she'd hold it in until the pain passed rather than caterwaul as little children have a tendency to do. But I can tell." Libby tapped the side of her nose, sagely.

Castle stared at the rug. "I was a bit of an idiot back in New York."

Libby raised her eyebrows, waiting. "Oh? How so?"

"I started following another cop. Kind of broke our partnership."

"Broke? Or bruised?"

He bravely met Kate's aunt's gaze. "I guess that's the big question."

"No, the big question is what are you going to do about it?"

"Fix it, if I can. If she'll even see me."

"Well, there's nothing I can do about that," Libby said, suddenly standing, signaling that their lunchtime chitchat was over.

"I appreciate everything you've told me so far. And it was great to meet another member of Kate's family."

Libby paused by her chair, her hand falling to Castle's arm. "You seem like a kind man, Mr. Castle. And from what Katie's told me over the last few years, she seems to value having you in her life. Don't mess up a second time. That girl doesn't trust easily."

Castle nodded rapidly. "I'll do my best. I promise."

She had walked him to the front door, where he shook her hand. Just as he was turning away to walk down the front steps, Libby had said, "I hear the seafood's pretty good at _Milo's Fish Camp_ , if you're looking for an early supper. Don't tell Stevie I sent you or I'll never hear the end of it," she added, with a theatrical wink.

* * *

Kate is busy filling a heavy pitcher with beer and a second with water and ice when the door opens and the sound of heavy footfalls on the worn wooden boards catches her attention. She mops up a spill, distractedly loading the black rubber tray, always on the move, before she gets a chance to check out the source of the noise. When she does her heart lurches right into her mouth, goose bumps rise all over her bare arms, and her stomach drops to the floor. That her nipples tighten beneath her shirt is the most galling physical effect of all, since she's spent her time in Maine, and even the days before she left home, trying to forget him. She has thrown herself into work, seven days in a row now, made new friends faster than ever before, cleared her head to consider a new future plan, and yet here he suddenly is, undoing all of her hard work in a single alarming heartbeat.

"Hey, Beckett."

His voice is rich as ever, and mostly warm, but there's a note of uncertainty in it that betrays the confident smile he's trying to keep on his face.

"Sorry. You must be mistaken. My name's Perkins. Stevie Perkins," she says, giving him a determined, chin-up, I-dare-you stare.

"Stevie. Right, sorry," he nods, playing along for now if it'll get her to talk to him rather than throwing him out.

She seems disconcerted that he follows her play so easily, that he doesn't seem phased to hear that she's going by another name, doesn't insist on calling her Kate.

"Jesus Christ," she mutters, shaking her head to shrug off whatever's just come over her so that she can carry on working.

"You got a minute?"

"I'm _working_ ," she forces out, low and between clenched teeth.

"That's fine. I hear the seafood's good. I'll take a seat at the bar, grab a menu. Just be over here," he says, thumbing towards a high stool near the open window.

Kate closes her eyes for a second, lets out a long, slow breath, and then she hoists her tray of drinks and heads out onto the deck to deal with her real customers, all without ever looking back.

She's gone so long he wonders if she's just up and skipped town. Again. Eventually another girl appears from the kitchen to serve him. She's young, early twenties, Irish with red corkscrew curls and a complexion so white that it glows. Her name is Orla Byrne, he soon learns, and she's over for the summer on a J-1 visa from County Meath, about fifty miles from Dublin, where she's studying psychology with dance. How that works he has no idea, but she's a bubbly, friendly girl, and they're soon chatting up a storm.

"So…the other girl who was here before…" he asks, between sips of cold beer, fishing. "Stevie, I think she said her name was…"

"Oh, aye," Orla grins, while she polishes a glass. "You like her?"

"I…I just wondered if she's on a break or…" Castle flounders, looking around the restaurant for clues as to where Kate might have gone.

"You _do_ like her, so you do." the girl teases, pouring a fresh serving of peanuts into a bowl for Castle, a gesture he guesses means someone likes you round here. "All the guys like Stevie."

Castle feels his blood turn to ice water at Orla's off-hand remark. "All the guys. Right. So this Stevie is…she's popular?"

"Yeah, she just fit right in from day one. Must be a week now. But I feel like I've known her forever."

"Must be fun working with another woman in a place like this," Castle notes, glancing around at the beer brand memorabilia on the walls, the worn leather-topped bar stools, the dented brass rail beneath his feet, and the battered old jukebox in the corner by the restrooms.

"Stevie's great. Deals with the local drunks for me now. So there's never any bother."

Orla is small, pretty and exotic looking for Maine, so it's no surprise to Castle that men would try to hit on her or hassle her a little.

"She looks like she can handle herself," he comments, dying inside as he lies by omission to this sweet girl who's almost the same age as his daughter.

"Yeah, this one time she—" Orla breaks off to beam a wide grin at someone just over Castle's shoulder. "Were your ear's burnin'?" she asks with her lovely Irish lilt, and Castle stiffens, knowing exactly who he'll find if he turns around.

"No," Kate answers easily. "Should they be?"

"We were just talkin'" says Orla, a little shyly.

"About me?"

"Sure. Who else?" she laughs as she blushes. "Mister— I'm sorry I don't right know your name," says Orla, now looking to Castle.

But her eyes widen in surprise when Kate fills in the answer before Castle can.

"This is the famous American mystery novelist, Richard Castle, Orla. He's not usually so shy about introducing himself."

Orla stares at Castle. "You two know each other?"

"After a fashion," Castle admits, watching as Kate goes behind the bar to stand next to her younger coworker. They make an attractive pair. Castle's quite sure the owner's takings must have gone up since he hired them both.

"So…what's the deal? Do you know him or not?" Orla asks Kate this time.

"In a past life, we used to work together. Isn't that right?"

"I don't know about past—"

"You left. End of."

"I didn't leave Ka— _Stevie._ It was always supposed to be temporary. I thought you _knew_ that."

"Oh, believe me, I did. And now it's _over_."

Kate takes off her apron and dumps it behind the bar. "I'm taking my break. I'll be out on the back deck if you need me," she tells Orla, before pouring herself a large glass of ice water and disappearing with a thick book under her arm.

Castle sits on in stunned, embarrassed silence for a moment or two before Orla takes pity on him and hands him a second beer. "Well, that was dumb," she says, pushing the bottle towards him.

"Which part?" Castle grumps, swigging from the sweating bottle.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"She's your friend. I probably shouldn't."

"Right. But I got the distinct impression she's your friend too. Maybe even a little more than that."

"You'll make a good barkeep, Orla. Intuitive, know when to listen and—"

"When to shut up," Orla finishes, beating him to it.

Castle slumps a little. "Sorry."

"No worries. Sure, I've heard a lot worse, so I have," she offers with a pleasant smile. "You know where I am if you wanna talk."

"Actually," Castle says, hopping down off his stool, "I think there's someone else I should be talking to." He slaps a twenty on the bar and tells her to keep the change.

"You're a good sort, Mister Castle. Even if your books are a little far fetched," Orla boldly adds with a wink as he leaves.

* * *

"Your friend seems nice," Castle opens with when he finds Kate sheltering from the afternoon sun under a large patio umbrella out on the back deck.

"Careful. She's sharper than she looks," Kate replies without lifting her head from the book she has open in front of her.

"Then she must be razor sharp." But his small talk clearly isn't cutting it.

"Castle, what are you doing here?"

"Mind if I sit?"

"Free country."

"What are you reading?" he asks, sliding the book out from under her hands before she can think to hold onto it.

Kate takes a deep breath, fighting a surge of indignation. "Please just answer my question."

Castle's eyes widen a little when he sees the subject matter of what turns out to be a thick legal prep book: _The LSAT Logical Reasoning Bible._

"You're studying for the _LSATS?_ " he asks, his blood running even colder.

"I'm thinking about it."

"Wh…why?"

"Because that's what you have to do if you want to go to law school."

"I…I didn't know you'd decided to…"

"It's just one of many avenues I'm exploring," she tells him, snapping the hefty book closed.

"Where would you study? Back in New York?"

"I haven't decided anything yet."

"Yeah, but you must have thought about it."

"I considered re-enrolling at Stanford. But the memories…" She shakes her head. "University of Maine has a good law school. Right here in Portland."

"You…you've thought about leaving New York? _Permanently?_ "

"I've thought about a lot of things, Castle. Only one thing I do know. I can't go on with the status quo."

"But I thought you loved your job?"

"I did…I do."

"Then…what? Why _leave?_ "

She hears approaching footsteps on the deck and closes up tight as a clam. "I can't talk about this now. I have to get back to work."

"Then when? Can we meet later? Have a drink, dinner or something?"

Kate stands, the large book clutched to her chest. "Castle, go home. You shouldn't have come."

Castle stands abruptly too, almost knocking his chair backwards. "Kate, talk to me. Please?"

"It's _Stevie_ ," she insists.

" _Bullshit._ Look…just talk to me. Before you make a big mistake."

The owner of the restaurant suddenly arrives from the end of the small pier, saving Castle from a blast of indignation. He has a bucket of fish guts swinging from one filthy hand. A swarm of squawking seagulls circles overhead. "Stevie? Everything okay? This guy bothering you?" Dan calls out, eyeing Castle with undisguised suspicion.

Kate smiles at her boss as she swats at a fly. "No, Dan. It's fine. He was just leaving."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere until you—"

"Castle, _please_ …don't make a scene," she begs, holding his gaze for the first time today. Just a couple of heartbeats connect them, and then she immediately looks away.

Castle deflates. "Fine. Then I'll come back tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that until you talk to me."

"Suit yourself," Kate mutters, tucking her book under her arm and heading back inside to don her apron.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 5

After dinner that same night, Castle calls Jim Beckett to let him know that he has managed to track down his daughter and that she's safe.

"Libby said to tell you hello," Castle informs Mr. Beckett, feeling like a strange interloper in amongst Beckett family business when he has to add, "She told me to ask you about a Lego set Kate got for Christmas the year she turned five. Something about a Castle?"

Jim Beckett chuckles on the other end of the line. There's something so warm and uniquely paternal about this sound that it sets Castle thinking about his own daughter with deep longing. "I'd forgotten all about that."

"A particular favorite?"

"You could say that. She smuggled one of the little knight figures into kindergarten, as I recall. Poked a boy in her class in the arm with the tip of a plastic sword when he called her a bad name. Broke the skin, can you believe. I never did find out what that foolhardy boy called her."

"I'm guessing she'd kill me if I bring up that story and ask for more details."

"Yeah, I'd be wary of her gun arm now, son," Jim Beckett laughs. "How'd she seem to you? Did you get a chance to talk?"

Castle's tone grows serious. "She wasn't exactly pleased to see me. Let's leave it at that. She has a job."

Jim sounds as surprised as Castle was. "A job? With Portland PD?"

"No. Waitressing at a seafood bar and restaurant in Back Cove. Has she ever talked to you about going back to school?"

Jim sounds amused by the question. "Katie, go back to school? Whatever for?"

"She had an LSATs study book with her at work, was reading it on her break. She said she's thinking about enrolling in law school."

"In New York?"

"No, in Maine."

There is a moment of considered silence before Jim Beckett takes the bull by the horns and asks, "Rick, what happened between you two back in New York? I don't like to pry into my daughter's private life and God knows you're no teenage boy I'm interested in scaring off with pointed questions about your intentions. But all I can think is it must have been something pretty major if she's thinking about making such big changes to her life."

Castle closes his eyes and lets out a long, slow breath. "It's complicated."

"Then make it simple."

"That's...not as easy as it sounds."

He hears Jim Beckett make some vague hum of agreement before he clears his throat and takes another breath. It sounds as if he's debating where to go next with this difficult conversation. Castle is impressed by the older man's tenacity and openness when he finally does speak up.

"You know, Katie's mother and I…our families were poles apart. Culturally speaking, politically, even our religions. Her father was a tenured history professor at Barnard. My dad was a union rep for the Local 1-2 at Con Ed. We came from two different worlds. But Jo and I knew we wanted to be together, so we showed them that those differences didn't matter."

"I hear you, I do. And I can't say I disagree. But this is Kate we're talking about. When she gets an idea in her head—"

"Then you change her mind, Rick. I was against her becoming a cop after her mother died. Thought she was throwing her potential away. But watching her do that job now… I couldn't be prouder. She makes a compassionate, dedicated, talented detective. Don't let her walk away from that because you two can't pluck up the courage to tell each other how you feel."

"That is my plan…if she'll even talk to me."

"Just keep showing up. That's all you can do. Let her see that you're there for her, that you're serious. She doesn't trust easily since her mother died. But I get the strongest sense that she trusts you."

"Funny, that's what her Aunt Libby said too."

"Then take good advice when it's offered, Rick. Especially when you hear it twice in one day."

* * *

Castle rises at seven the next morning and goes for a run. It's already hot outside and he heads for the coast in search of a breeze off the water. He deliberately avoids passing anywhere near 47 Parson's Road lest he bump into Kate and has her thinking that he's stalking her. His head feels clearer the farther and faster he runs. His heart is pumping and he's sweating profusely, but the burn in his lungs has all the excitement and positive sensations of a purge. It's as if he's outrunning his recent past, _their_ recent damaged past. Shedding Slaughter, his disastrous trip to Vegas, Kate's lie and his own bad reaction to it, just like an old skin, so that he's ready to tackle whatever comes next in his life with a clear head and an honest, open heart.

Once back at his own guesthouse, he showers and then dresses carefully for the day ahead in a casual t-shirt and cargo shorts. He adds a worn pair of leather boat shoes and his laptop bag. He doesn't want to stand out, to look too "city" and embarrass Kate/Stevie in front of her coworkers at the restaurant. If he can write beneath the shady overhang on the deck, staying out of the sun while he works and she works, showing her that he's there for her as her father and aunt have both suggested, then he knows he stands the best chance of getting her to thaw towards him, to open up and really talk. And maybe listen to his side too.

Just keep on showing up, that's his plan. The rest will flow if she gives him the time of day. And to get the time of day with Kate Beckett is to have the sun and moon align, as far as Rick Castle's concerned - when the world becomes light enough to see by and yet dark enough to make out all of life's glorious detail. He wants that so badly. His own hurt has now been vastly salved by the mere fact of the pain his behavior has evidently caused Kate. If that doesn't prove that she cares about him then nothing does. He broke up their partnership, he flaunted another woman in front of her, and now Kate is running from the life she knows, a job she loves and the few close friends she holds dear just to escape watching him make more reckless mistakes she can no longer intervene to protect him from. What greater proof of his importance in her life does he need after that?

* * *

Orla joins him on the deck with a coffee as soon as she arrives for her shift. She's fifteen minutes early, and Dan already had the coffee pot filled before she even set a foot inside the place. Castle brought a bag of pastries from a nearby bakery, since he was unfamiliar with _Milo's_ menu, and he offered one to Dan as soon as he spotted the guy down by a fishing boat that was tied up at the end of the pier.

"So…what's your deal with Stevie?" the restaurant owner had asked, bear claw in one hand, a bag of fresh clams in the other.

"We're…we're old friends. From back in New York."

Castle keeps his answers vague since he has no idea how much information Kate has shared about her life with these new people. The fact that she's changed her name suggests she's keeping her NYPD history and alter-ego Nikki Heat on the down low for now.

"And you came all this way just to… _what?_ Say hi?" Dan Harper probes, as they walk back towards the wraparound deck together.

"Something like that."

"Only she didn't look too pleased to see you yesterday," the man points out, giving Castle a curious, sympathetic glance.

"We had a disagreement about something," Castle mutters, reaching for the only vague thing he can think of to describe their recent issues.

Dan laughs. "Lover's quarrel?"

"Yeah, could say that," Castle lies, trying to laugh the whole uncomfortable discussion off, knowing Kate would kill him if she heard him agreeing to describe their situation in that way.

The restaurateur claps Castle on the shoulder, a warm and friendly gesture. "Know how that goes, my friend. Stevie is one hot lady, if you don't mind me saying. Kicked a few butts around here last Friday night. And boy, can that woman hold her own at the bar."

Castle shudders to hear all of this. Bar room brawls and heavy drinking sessions are not the outcomes he wanted to bring to Kate's door when he wigged out after discovering her lie. It embarrasses him to recall how he picked up Jacinda, even brought her to one of Kate's crime scenes, and then ran off with Slaughter to mask his own personal pain. Inflicting fresh wounds upon himself, all without ever giving Kate a chance to explain her side, was not the smartest or most mature move he's ever pulled. The thought that Alexis was also around to witness a lot of this makes him feel sick.

"She's complex alright," Castle says vaguely, trying to close this awkward conversation down once and for all.

He likes this guy. He seems like he'd be a good boss to work for. He clearly puts in a lot of grunt work himself, and since Kate isn't known for suffering fools, he imagines he's on the up and up. But that doesn't mean he's automatically Castle's new BFF. Kate still values her privacy enough not to trust these new people with her real name and her real story. He has to respect her decision and try to do the same.

They're nearing the top of the pontoon when Dan speaks again. "Talk of the devil herself," he grins, nodding his head in the direction of the dust lot at the back of the restaurant, where Kate is just parking her bike.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she hisses at Castle as soon as she rounds the corner, finding him already seated at one of the picnic tables with both Dan and Orla. All three are sipping coffee and tearing up pastries, like they've known one another forever.

"We'll leave you both to it," Dan suggests, fending off Orla's glare when he jerks his head towards the restaurant, forcing the young Irish woman to leave the scene of intrigue.

"I came to talk. Can we please just sit down and have a civilized conversation?"

"I told you yesterday to stay away," Kate reminds him through gritted teeth. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I told you to go home. But when have you ever listened to me?" she bristles, managing to convey her frustration without even raising her voice. That said, she turns on her heel and leaves, pushing through the creaky screen door into the kitchen and letting it slam behind her.

Castle can't follow her into the kitchen, which is an _Employee Only_ area according to the sign on the torn, flytrap of a screen. So he settles himself at the table on the deck, fires up his laptop, opens a new Word document and digs in for the long haul.

* * *

Kate reappears not five minutes later. She's carrying a large pitcher of ice water, which she places down heavily on the table Castle is using. Some kind of peace offering, he hopes. She sets an empty glass down beside it, and then withdraws, only to pause at a short distance and hover.

"Why do you invade my life wherever I go? You did the same back in New York. My friends, my girlfriend, my captain, my own _father_. You charm my Aunt Libby. Orla falls in love with you. Dan wants to be your new drinking buddy. You won't be happy until—"

"We can share these things. Is that so wrong? I want _my_ friends to be _your_ friends, Kate. And you're more than welcome to my mother. I'll tell you that for nothing."

His attempt at humor fails utterly. "What about your daughter?" she challenges, already aware of the answer, just as he is.

Castle's jaw tightens. "Work in progress. But I have confidence you can win her over. If you'll just come home."

Kate crosses her arms over her chest, unconsciously baring her midriff when her tank top rides up. Castle eyes the erotic strip of bare skin riding above the waist of her skirt. His fingers burn with an itch that begs him to reach out and stroke the soft flesh of her stomach. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." She backs away slightly.

"To be clear, is that _can't_ or _won't_ because—"

"Castle, I'm here because I'm paid to do a job. I don't have time for your riddles."

"Fine. But before you go. I spoke to your dad last night."

Kate turns back to stare at him. "Is that supposed to be some kind of threat? Emotional blackmail, maybe?"

"No. No. He sends his love, is all. I thought you should know."

"Great. Thanks for that newsflash, Oprah."

Castle ignores her uncustomary sarcasm. "Why didn't you tell him you were coming up here? Just...out of interest."

"You never give up, do you? Always digging, always poking around. I needed time to clear my head. Work things out. _Alone._ That's not a crime, last I checked."

Castle feels his own shutters coming down. He's done enough for one day. "Fine. Your choice. Look, I'll let you get on with your work. My number's the same if you..." He shrugs. "...you know...ever feel like calling."

"Why would I want to do that?" Kate challenges reflexively, even as her heart is shattering inside. She's being self-destructive, a horrible bitch, and she knows it. Lashing out at the one person who cares for her most in the world. Yet she still can't find it inside herself to stop.

"Because we both know that we've left a lot of things unsaid. If you decide you're staying up here...I'd still like my day in court. So...call me if you get a minute. I'll be around. Waiting."

The words "as usual" hang unsaid in the hot, salty air like a bad smell.

* * *

 _A/N: Please keep in mind that this story is a journey. Don't judge it on a view glimpsed out of the window as the scenery flashes past, and by that I mean don't condemn it on the back of one scene, one argument or one chapter. Character opinions and behaviors will change as we go along. So please try to make your mind up when we reach the destination, if you can, once all the drama has played out. Thank you for reading, Liv_


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 6

Waiting. Right. Again.

That he's here, still waiting for her, suddenly brings a surge of embarrassed fury. Not the gratitude you might expect, a caving in of the righteous little hideout Kate made for herself when she took off up here to put some distance between her deep disappointment (mostly at herself) and the man she sat in the precinct helplessly watching slip further away by the day. No, him being here, especially being kind and being here, worming his way into this new Beckett refuge, only brings fury; fury born of shame at her own precipitous, cowardly, self-sabotaging behavior.

So Kate rounds on him now, embarrassment and anger making her body rigid, her hands screwed into tight, frustrated fists. She wants to push him hard, force him to spill his secrets, since hers are still tangled up inside of her, trapped like so many crabs at the back of her throat, their claws caught as in a fishing net, unable to escape into the dark little corners they seek.

"Castle, what are you really doing here? And don't give me any bullshit about trying to save me from myself. I'd sooner believe you needed a new setting for Nikki Heat or a simple vacation." She laughs coldly. "I mean we've run into some coincidences over the years but I'm not buying another of your 'fate brought me to your door' or 'the Universe made me do it' stories this time."

She's speaking English but she isn't making any sense. She already knows why he's here. But she's mixing things up in her attempt to lash out, mingling thoughts from her own head, projections, things she's discussed with Dr. Burke, all seasoned with the irrational fury of the moment. The deck is soundless, stultifying in the cloying summer air. Her thinking is muddy from a lack of fresh oxygen, her self-destruct setting jammed to "on". Only the gentle slap of breeze-driven waves breaks the intensity of the moment. That, and Castle's irrepressible need to inject humor into every situation, no matter how bleak or how bad or how life-threatening.

"What about destiny?" He lifts his chin in a plucky manner, looking to get some rise out of her, offering a taste of their familiar shtick that might remind her again just who she is and who they are together.

Kate glares, her hands on her hips. His quip falls flat but he is nothing if not resilient. Like a Whack a Mole, he bounces up again with another zany absurdity.

"Kismet?"

Distain steals the light from her eyes. "Pfft. I'm leaving." She turns to go, deserting him.

Castle reaches out after her, grasping only thin air. "Okay, wait. Wait. Don't go."

"Why? Tell me. Give me _one_ good reason why I should stand here and listen to you…you _obfuscate_ the truth one more time?"

" _The truth?_ Are you _listening_ to yourself right now? Do you even know what the truth is anymore?"

Her eyes flash. "How dare you."

"Someone has to," he fires back.

"What the hell, Castle?"

"You're running away, Kate. And if you proceed in pursuing this…this harebrained scheme of yours to—"

"Harebrained?" She turns icy calm. "You think fulfilling my potential, following the dream I used to have before my life was blown up when my mother was murdered… You'd dare to call that harebrained?"

"You've already fulfilled your potential and then some. Or have you forgotten who was the youngest woman in NYPD history to make detective? The Homicide hotshot with the highest closure rate of any precinct in the city? Hmm? Plaudits from the Mayor himself."

"Who just happens to be your friend," she lobs back at him with something of an accusation not buried very deep.

"You earned every accolade you ever got, Beckett. Never was a day you needed my help to excel at your job. Everyone knows that. You're probably the best detective the city has ever seen."

"What if that isn't enough anymore?"

"Then pursue a different dream. But not like this. Not hiding away up here in Maine, living in your aunt's guest room and waiting tables like you're twenty-one again. Because newsflash, Beckett, you're not."

"Great. Gee, thanks for the reminder," she snaps, turning once more to leave.

Her actions cause a jolt of desperation to shoot through Castle, loosening his tongue on subjects he'd never normally broach, and with her of all people.

"You're a grown woman with a career and savings, I assume," he says to her stiffened spine, exposed muscles taut around the racer-back of her tank top. He feels the heat of arousal begin to rise and swirl, just looking at those muscles move, despite everything. "And if you have no savings, I'd be delighted give you a loan to cover your tuition. _Nikki_ can give you a loan." He says this as if inspired by some divine, benevolent deity whose gift and sole purpose is to drop ideas into the heads of the insanely desperate.

Kate spins around to face him. "Oh, _my God_. I don't believe you. You think this is about the money?"

Castle attempts to remain calm and appear unafraid in the face of pure Beckett wrath. Openly discussing monetary matters is a bridge too far in Kate's polite world. "No. Not for a second."

"Then why would you even bring that up?"

"Because I needed something to say that would hold your attention long enough that you wouldn't just walk away or throw me out again. I'm that desperate, Beckett. I pulled the royalties card. So shoot me."

Confronted by his honesty, his frankness, she seems to deflate. "Why are we doing this?"

Castle tries hard to sound like a reasoned adult when he answers her painful question. "Because it's time."

"Time?" She frowns.

"We need to talk. You running. Me being an asshole, basically. It has to stop. One way or another, it has to stop."

Kate bristles at this request, which flirts too close to commandment for her liking. She hates feeling anything in the neighborhood of trapped, and Castle's visit is starting to feel like an ambush or some kind of intervention. "I'm moving on with my life. If you don't approve of my choices…they're really none of your concern anymore."

"You really believe that crap?"

"You're moving on too. I don't approve of all your choices. Flight attendants and whatever else you had going on in Vegas. Slaughter…I have no words for _that_ insanity."

"Has something happened, Kate? Something I'm not getting?"

"Has something…has something—? Where have you _been?_ Oh, right. I forgot. You were with him, _Slaughter_."

"I told you. Forget Slaughter. That's over. Ancient history."

"And what about her, huh? The flight attendant?"

" _Jacinda_ ," they both say simultaneously.

"Yes, her," Kate mutters, rolling her eyes. "Glad to see you still remember her name, by the way."

"Come on. That's a low blow. She's gone too. And for the record—"

"You know what? Fuck the record. I don't want to hear it."

"You don't want to know what actually happened in Vegas that weekend?"

Castle watches her jaw tighten again, and she hugs her own body. "Honestly? No."

"Well, you're going to hear it whether you like it or not. I sat at a bar in my hotel and I drank myself sick. So sick that I spent the next two days with my head over the toilet when I wasn't sleeping it off."

"Great. Just what I need in my life. Another drunk."

Castle closes his eyes for a couple of seconds before taking a breath and straightening up to forge on. "I've made mistakes, Kate. But we both have. And I'm not a drunk. Never was, never will be. Why'd you think your dad trusts me enough to help me out here?"

"Did my father send you?" she gasps, indignation burning behind her eyes. "Is that what you want me to believe now?"

"Not sent, exactly. No. I…I had no idea how to find you. The boys only told me you'd gone to—"

"Yeah, you said. So basically there is _no one_ in my life I can trust to keep their mouth shut."

Castle steps up to reassure her immediately. "That's not true. You can trust me. Always could."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I know I've let you down recently and I'm sorry if I hurt you. But there were extenuating circumstances and—"

"And these extenuating circumstances made it okay to sleep with some random woman you met on an airplane?" she asks, her voice leaden with sarcasm.

Pushed just too far, Castle's grip on civility - and possibly sainthood - finally slips through his fingers. "First off, I never slept with her. Second of all, don't act like you care. Or like some jealous girlfriend I just cheated on because that's clearly not who I am or who I ever was to you."

"Great. Finally something we agree on," Kate snaps, though there is no sign of triumph in her eyes, which only shine with bitter disappointment.

Castle drops his head into his hands in despair and resignation. "I don't even know why I came up here anymore."

"Makes two of us." Kate checks her watch. "If you hurry I'm sure you can make the 7.55pm back to JFK. And who knows, maybe JetBlue is throwing in flight attendants with your complimentary drink and snack this season."

* * *

Much later, after the sun has set, alone in her aunt's guest room following a silent, miserable dinner she could barely stomach, she checks her email. There's one from the boho clothing boutique _Free People_ at the top of the page. _'We picked you!'_ announces the subject line. "Good for you," Kate mutters, instantly deleting the message without even opening it.

She stabs her way down the list in her inbox, taking out junk mail, newsfeed and app updates alike. The purge feels satisfying until she has deleted all of the check-marked messages and a new email bobs up at the head of the line like a surfacing cork.

Rick Castle. The name alone makes her insides flip and her outsides cringe after their angry, fear-fuelled face-off this afternoon.

Kate hovers the cursor arrow over the checkbox, intent on deleting this message too. But then she curses under her breath, slams her glass of ice tea down on the nightstand and covers her eyes with her damp fingers.

"Why do you do this to me?" she mutters to the toile de Jouy decorated walls. "Why?" she whispers hoarsely as she clicks on the message to open it.

There is no subject line this time. No "Breaking News," no "You've Been Chosen," or "25% off. Limited Time Offer." If it was his intention to intrigue her, he has succeeded. Though it's equally likely he just had no idea what to say, no way to herald his message that wouldn't result in it being deleted unread.

She opens her eyes and begins to scan the page, her thumb jammed between her front teeth like a child seeking comfort after a crying jag. He has forgone salutations too, just plunged right in, so Kate does the same.

* * *

 _I keep making a mess of things, I'm aware. But I just needed to remind you, and maybe myself, that I came up here for a reason and that I'm sticking to my plan. So I'll be around until we can sit down and talk like adults. I just wanted you to know that. Also, I know that this hole we're in isn't all my fault, Kate. I'm taking responsibility for my part. You need to do the same._

 _I'm staying at the Fleetwood Inn in Back Cove. My cell phone number hasn't changed. So please, call me, find me there or I'll see you at Milo's in the morning. I'm also still the same guy you'd grown to trust as your partner…if nothing else. Don't ever forget that. I've still got your back, Beckett. Whatever happens next._

 _Rick_

* * *

She stares at the screen, his message made incomprehensible by the fat tears now swimming in her eyes. She brushes them away as they fall, harsh and fast swipes at her skin with the back of her hand. Her body is worn out from being on her feet all day, her shoulders a little burned by the sun. She bites her lip and refocuses bloodshot eyes on the words, searching for more meaning that they have to offer, though the meaning that is already there should be plenty and then some. By read-through three she has his email memorized almost word-for-word. By the fourth pass she has it down so perfectly she doesn't think she'll ever forget those words.

He is the bigger man, in all respects that count. And his email only goes to prove something she's suspected for a long time: that she doesn't deserve Richard Castle, and, right now, she doubts she'd even be any good for him anyway. Too tender, too messed up, too eager to believe the worst of him, if he was telling the truth today, which she believes he was. Why they wound one another, why they circle around each other, endlessly, speaking in riddles, toying briefly with other people; it's all beyond her at this very second. She knows that fear has a lot to do with it on her part. She wonders how he'd explain his choices to her in a frank, cards-on-the-table moment. They are a pair, that's for sure, equally matched in their ability to be fiercely loyal and to wound without thought to consequence.

Exhaustion and shame sweep through her with a weight like grief – sudden, dark, and total. She closes her laptop down, sets it carefully to one side. Quickly, she falls asleep on top of the comforter with her shorts and tank top still on, her cell phone clutched in one hand, Castle's contact information pulled up on the screen.

* * *

 _Another step on the journey. Thank you for reading._


	7. Chapter 7

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 7

A full eight hours of rest turns out to be the magic ingredient. Kate wakes feeling more rational about everything. More rational and less indignant at having her life choices second-guessed by a man who makes up stories for a living. Her impulse to call her partner has been diluted by the soothing effect of a good night's sleep, and so her trigger finger no longer rests over his name on her cell phone's contact list. She just needs a little time to gather her thoughts and the words she'll need to articulate them. So she decides that she'll make a healthy breakfast, slowly get ready, and then by the time she reaches the restaurant, Castle will be there and she'll be able to negotiate an appropriate time for them to talk outside of work.

She showers and dresses for the day in a knee-length purple and white tie-dye sundress that she's owned forever but never seems to get the chance to wear back in the city. The soft cotton straps are gathered together at the back by a copper ring that exposes the angel-wings of her shoulder blades. The style accentuates her slender arms and hips as much as the colors accentuate her tan. A pair of white Keds and her sunglasses are pretty much all she needs, after she fixes her hair into a high ponytail to keep it off her neck at work all day.

Her bike is still at _Milo's,_ from the afternoon before, when she left work in a hurry to avoid being pinned down by Castle and this sudden need he has for them to talk about everything. So imagine her surprise when she finds the bike leaning against her aunt's avocado green fence post just as she was preparing to make the hot, tedious walk from home to work on foot.

A little bunch of wilting blue cornflowers are resting in the bike's front basket, their thin green stems artfully tied together with a dried stalk of grass that ends in a final flourish of a bow. The man is full of surprises and has no end of talent, creativity or persistence, she has to give him that.

"You know what they call those around these parts?" asks her aunt. Libby is leaning against the front porch rail, a yellow mug of tea in her hand, watching with keen interest as her niece discovers this act of kindness.

"I have a feeling you plan on telling me." She waits patiently while her aunt gets to the point and delivers her coup de grace. Aunt Libby has this look in her eye, a look Kate is amply familiar with from days gone by – it's the look that says there's a real zinger on the way.

"Bachelor's Button," Aunt Libby grins, winking at Kate while trying to hide a somewhat smug smile behind her mug of tea.

"My day will go way smoother for knowing that. Thank you," Kate replies. Her sarcastic cheek is one of the many things her aunt loves about her niece, since it keeps her feeling young, as she's told Kate on more than one occasion.

"Give him a chance. Listen at least. I know of no suitors as persistent as your Mr. Castle. None with money, in any case."

"Aunt Libby," Kate groans, shaking her head as she mounts her bike. "He's not _my_ anything and his money is _his_ business."

"Oh really? Last I heard he was your partner? And that money came from books he wrote about you, child."

"I don't care about the money."

"But you do care about your partner, Katie. That much is clear. So talk to him. What harm can it do?"

Kate nods to placate her aunt, zero intention of following through on the implied promise in the imminent future. Because she won't sit down and have it out with him at work. Not again. They got into things at _Milo's_ yesterday that she'd be mortified for her coworkers to have overheard. She values her privacy above everything. No, she'll buy Castle a cup of coffee when he shows up at the restaurant and they'll agree to a time when they can do this. It feels right. It _is_ time, as he said. She's almost looking forward to seeing him this morning. So she gives her aunt another big smile as she prepares to get on her way.

"Make an old woman happy, hmm? Your talk goes well, maybe I get to buy a new hat," she teases, meeting Kate's horrified growl with a girlish giggle she follows up with a surprisingly piercing wolf whistle.

"I'm leaving now," Kate warns her aunt, turning the bike around. "Stay out of trouble while I'm at work."

"Morty, Violet, Joe and I have bridge this afternoon. How much trouble d'you think we can get into?"

" _You?_ " Kate laughs. "Nothing would surprise me."

* * *

Once at the restaurant, Kate cleans the bar, she restocks the salt and pepper grinders, chops lemons, limes and oranges until her fingertips sting to fill up the bar top garnish trays. She pours 5lb bags of ice into the underbar ice bins and carts boxes of sticky empties out to the back lot in time for the midday garbage pickup, all until the lunchtime rush, such as it is, begins to heat up.

Ferrying endless trays, heavy with ice-filled drinks and red plastic baskets loaded with checkered wax paper that hold large portions of shrimp and fries, endless shrimp and fries, is hot and thirsty work. Her arms and shoulders, not to mention her legs, are getting so much more of a workout here than she had time for back in the city, despite fitness being a requirement of her job. Together with the cycle to and from the dockside restaurant, she's the fittest and healthiest she's been in a long time.

The morning and lunch service pass in a blur of orders and pleasant, idle chitchat with customers, both locals and tourists alike. It's only on her break at around two-thirty that she realizes Castle hasn't appeared. For the first time since he arrived from New York and figured out how to find her, Castle hasn't shown up to wear her down.

She spends the rest of her shift with one eye on the door or the dockside or the dead, blank screen of her cell phone, which she carries around in the shallow front pocket of her apron. She stumbles on, half-present, until Dan finally intervenes, telling her to clock off early, just as panic begins to swirl like floodwater rising up around her knees.

"For the sake of my profits, Stevie." She'd broken two glasses and got three orders wrong.

"Sorry." Kate blushes, folding up her thick, navy bartender apron without argument and stashing it in the little nook beside the coffee machine. "I'll do better tomorrow," she promises, waving to Orla, who's pouring drinks on the other side of the bar. She offers her young friend an apologetic smile from the open screen door.

"Just find him. Have out whatever the problem is and then come back. Not before," Dan Harper insists, with an uncommon flash of firmness and finality to his last statement.

"Are…are you _firing_ me?" Kate asks, anguished at the prospect of losing even this pretty entry-level job.

"No, more like benching you. Look, I'm doing you a favor. Go find your writer, sort out your life, and then I'll happily have you back. If you figure that's what you still want."

* * *

Kate leaves _Milo's_ in a daze. She walks her bicycle to the road, too distracted by the ultimatum her boss had just issued to get on the back and pedal. She doesn't need this job in the short term. Castle is right when he assumed she has some savings. But as a long term means of paying her aunt some bed and board while she studies and her savings go towards tuition? This is a casual job, and therefore it doesn't require her to think very hard (though apparently it requires more dedicated thought than she's been able to give it today). The brutal fact is that it's is an easy way to earn some ready cash to cover her living expenses if she decides to apply to sit her LSAT's in December with the hope of entering law school the following Fall. To lose it now would be both humiliating and fiscally unfortunate.

As she walks home pushing her bike, she muses over her current conundrum. If she tracks Castle down and talks to him, as her boss is insisting she do, then she can return to her job. But if she talks things through with Castle, where will she end up after that? What does she want? What does _he_ even want anymore? Sure showing up here must mean something. But all she's heard from him so far is how big a mistake _she's_ making trying to change to her life. She's heard nothing from him to indicate that he's here _for_ her and not just to _fix her_ or save her from herself. But then that's typical Castle behavior: put everyone else's needs first. He rarely asks for what he wants when it comes to anything but police work and his books. He's never really asked her for a personal favor, the way most friends do. Now he's asking for her time, her undivided attention and some honesty. She owes him that much at least. But what then? What happens next?

As she walks the dusty road, the whole issue is giving her a headache. So she slips on her sunglasses, finally climbs aboard her aunt's old, turquoise bike, and begins pedaling for home. When she pushes off the old crushed-shell, sandy track, a warm, salty breeze fanning her face, she's hoping for an early supper, maybe an episode of _Jeopardy_ to keep her aunt company, then a long soak in the bath and an early night.

What she gets is not that.


	8. Chapter 8

Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 8

The smell of baking, warm and sweet, is waiting for Kate as soon as she mounts the back porch steps. The door is propped open, though the screen is still closed to keep out flies and other bugs. She kicks her Keds off by the big old umbrella stand and pauses, surprised to hear the quiet sound of voices coming from within. The scent of oven-warm, buttery pastry and stewed, sugared fruit sets her mouth watering and her stomach growling.

"Ah, here she is," announces her pink-cheeked aunt, dusting powdered sugar off her hands and onto her turquoise apron.

Kate stops just inside the kitchen, still as a rock, her face a picture of slack-mouthed shock and utter bemusement. Her heart is suddenly hammering despite little recent exertion beyond propping the old bike up on its stand and climbing three steps. But then Richard Castle still has the capacity to do that to her, even after all the troubled water that has recently passed under that particular bridge. Even here in her aunt's kitchen in Portland, Maine, dressed in Libby's spare floral apron - the red one with white frills around the hem and shoulders - he can still throw her for a loop, making her heart pound and her face flood with color.

"Feeling warm, dear?" her aunt asks rather pointedly, calling attention to her blushing cheeks.

Castle stands as still as Kate, making them look like a pair of statues, fixed in place for the purpose of staring at one another. He has a kitchen towel clasped in his hands, as he waits for his partner to make the first move. He adopts this almost submissive pose as a matter of routine, and it's a stance her aunt could never possibly guess is the standard form between them. Because yes, Castle might make the bold moves, but Kate is the one who really calls the shots.

"Living room. Now," Kate says. She keeps her voice under control but leaves the kitchen and trails through the hall without even checking to see whether Castle agrees to follow her or not. It's their thing, so she knows that he will.

Once they are alone in her aunt's neat little living room, standing face-to-face once more, she jabs him in the center of his chest. "Where the hell have you been?"

He looks taken aback. "Picking blueberries?" His explanation comes out as a question, making him look confused and mildly delusional, and also as if he might even be asking her permission for something he's already done.

Kate has to resist the urge to reply, _'Did I say you could go blueberry picking?_ since that's what his response practically begs for.

"Blueberries?" she snaps instead, shaking her head in disbelief.

"We made a pie," Castle offers by way of clarification, glancing in the direction of the kitchen as if the blueberry pie itself or maybe Aunt Libby might come and save him.

"You made a pie?"

"That's what I just said."

"You're here making _pie_ and I almost got fired."

Castle runs a nervous hand through his hair before focusing on Kate. "Did I do something? Was I _supposed_ to…do something?" He flounders against her anger, not understanding any of it. She wanted space, so he gave her space. How could doing what she asked still make her mad at him?

"I like your dress."

Kate stares at her partner, then mutters, "Just…don't," before she turns her back on Castle, walking over to the window in an attempt to create some space between them and maybe work off some of the excess energy she's suddenly feeling. But at only six or seven feet away, the window doesn't offer much by way of respite.

"Beckett?"

"It's—"

"Don't say Stevie," Castle interrupts. "It's only you, me and Libby here, and we all know your birth name, Kate. No point hiding at home."

She rounds on him again. "Castle, what are you doing here? Hmm? And I mean, _right now._ This second. Not some existential response. Just a straight answer for once."

"I already told you. I was making a blueberry pie with you aunt until—"

"Until I crashed your little party?" Kate snipes.

"What's got you so exercised? Did something happen at work?"

"I'll tell you what happened, shall I? I screwed up a bunch or orders and I dropped a couple of glasses all because—"

She comes screeching to a sudden dead stop, just in the nick of time.

"All because?" Castle prompts, sensing that he might be onto something interesting if Kate Beckett is suddenly censoring her answers.

Kate shakes her head and looks down at her feet, squidging her bare toes into the tufts of her aunt's antique rug in discomfort. "Doesn't matter," she mutters, sinking onto the upholstered ottoman that rests beneath the window.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Castle points out. "Also sounded like it was somehow _my_ fault. I'll willingly take the blame, you know. If you just tell me what I did wrong," he gallantly offers. And there's some humor tucked in there too; humor that seems to loosen Kate's tongue.

"You…you didn't show up," Kate mumbles so faintly that Castle had to strain to hear her.

He puts a hand up to his ear, slightly theatrically, cupping it with largess for comedic effect, and then he leans toward her and smiles. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that please?"

"Not a chance," Kate snaps. But she meets his eyes and instantly tumbles from petulant child into grinning, embarrassed woman, when confronted by her partner's all-too-familiar smugness.

"Pretty please?" Castle grins back.

"Go to hell," Kate chuckles, getting up off the ottoman and brushing past him to head for the refuge of the kitchen.

But Castle catches her by the wrist as she tries to pass by, and the effect of this sudden pinion, combined with her forward motion, sends her spinning back towards him. "I missed you too," Castle whispers, pausing, before tentatively leaning in to place the barest suggestion of a kiss on her cheek. They hold each other's gaze for a long, heated second, before he finally lets her go.

* * *

Aunt Libby insists Castle stay for dinner so that he can, "enjoy the fruits of his labor." She actually uses these words.

Kate snorts but then she collects three sets of cutlery, napkins and placemats from the dresser and disappears without another word to set the table in the dining room.

Aunt Libby winks at Castle and then she shushes him out of her kitchen, instructing him, at a whisper, to go after her niece and work on her some more, as she's been counseling him to all afternoon.

Castle clears his throat from the threshold of the dining room, startling Kate in the process. "So…" he begins awkwardly, hands jammed into his jeans' pockets.

"Jeez, way to sneak up on a person, Castle," Kate complains, hurriedly rearranging the silverware, which she'd absentmindedly placed the wrong way around at each and every place setting. Her mind is clearly on something or someone else.

"I'm beginning to see why Dan wanted to fire you," Castle says with a straight face, nodding towards her shoddy table setting.

Kate freezes, before slowly raising her head to give him a trademark Beckett stare.

"Joking," he promises, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Obviously too soon."

Kate doesn't answer. She just carries on around the table until all the places are correctly set. Castle is about to retreat to the safety of the kitchen when she catches him.

"Why'd you decide not to show today?"

Castle takes a moment to weigh his answer before replying. "You…you made it pretty clear you didn't want me anywhere near you, Beckett, and when you didn't reply to me email, I—"

"Since when do you do what I want?" she cuts in, dropping a butter knife so that it clatters loudly against the side of a water glass.

They both startle.

"Look…I don't know what's going on here. I'm _unclear_ …" he stresses, picking the most benign, uncritical word he can think of, "…what you want from me. But can I just suggest—"

"What _I_ want from _you?_ " Kate asks, indignantly. "Who says I want anything? I didn't _ask_ you to come up here…to…to run after me. I was starting again. I had a plan, a job, until you screwed—"

"Waiting tables, Kate," Castle points out with cool exasperation. He feels, for a moment, as if he's taking on his daughter.

"What's wrong with waiting tables? It's honest work."

"At _Milo's_? Yeah, for a college kid looking for a summer job or for someone like Orla, just passing through on a gap year. Not for a highly decorated, homicide detective. And the thought that I drove you to this…drove you up here away from your job, your friends, your dad…the city…Kate—"

"Not everything is about you," she snaps, just as Aunt Libby pops her head around the door.

"All set in here?" the older woman chirps brightly. She smiles determinedly at both of them, as if she has no clue about the animosity and drama being traded and played out between them in her pretty, bijou dining room.

"Yes," Kate nods, her mouth a matching smile of determination. "Can I help you with anything in the kitchen, Aunt Libby?"

"Don't. Let me," Castle intercedes, pausing before leaving the room to say, "Let's just have a nice dinner for your aunt's sake. She's gone to a lot of effort. Okay? We can do this for one evening, Beckett."

When Kate doesn't look up from the table, he adds, "You with me, partner?"

Kate finally raises her head and gives him the sparest of conciliatory nods. "Sure. One dinner."

* * *

 _Note: Quick summary reminder of where we are at this point as regards the motivation of these two characters. And just to add, I'm not saying I agree with any of their choices. This is the hand were were dealt by the show's writers and creators. We're kind of stuck with those choices, facts and character flaws._

 _So, Kate had been working towards a relationship with Castle while in therapy. They had become very close. In her mind she was nearly ready to trust fully and begin something with him (think Cuffed, Cops & Robbers, An Embarrassment of Bitches) when Castle suddenly goes cold on her, starts picking up women again (Jacinda) and then drops her to follow another cop. Now, you might think that's no biggie. But he was supposed to be her partner by this point, so as a cop, losing your back-up (even unarmed) has to feel pretty bad, especially when he starts following the cop other cops hate._

 _Castle is acting on the back of discovering Kate's lie. Now the thing that always bothered me about his impulsive reaction to that was, given Kate was dying on the grass, how does she even know that she "remembers ever second"? Maybe she was fading in and out when Castle was declaring his love for her. He certainly can't know what she remembers or doesn't. Without taking time to question her about it, he just reacts, going off the rails: he punishes her for her perceived lack of care plus her lie and he punishes himself for being stupid enough to think that she could ever love him._

 _This is where we are now: Kate thinks she's missed her chance with him, that he got bored waiting and moved on. One of the dumbest things about the show around this time to me was that she couldn't put two and two together and figure out that his sudden change in behavior related back to her confession in the box. Surely she'd have been carrying some guilt around for keeping him in the dark, plus she's a detective, it's not that big of a leap to see cause and effect. Anyway, after letting herself get comfortable imagining a life with him, and believing that life isn't going to happen now, she can't bear to stay at the precinct and watch him start dating again. So she leaves. When he shows up in Maine, she's fearful. She knows she still has feelings for him and she's scared to let herself feel them again, so she keeps pushing him away. And when he starts questioning her choices, she gets indignant, which quickly turns to anger. She's been on her own all her adult life, independent, making choices for herself, supporting herself, fixing her dad and dealing with her grief, so to have someone second guess her decisions is an affront to Kate Beckett, whether the guy doing it cares for her or not. And it's not as if Castle's personal choices have looked that great or grown-up of late either._

 _Castle for his part has discovered that Kate has left New York without even telling him, and this is a wake-up call for him. He snaps out of the self-destructive path he's been on and goes up there to try and fix things between them. Again, that's just who he is, I'm not doing anything other than employing his character traits as they have been set out on the show. He always puts others first and is super tolerant of peoples' flaws: his mother and daughter are good examples of this. When he gets to Maine he realizes he has a bigger problem to tackle: Kate is already moving on, making plans, plans that he thinks are wrong for her. So, being the kind, selfless guy he is, he sets out to fix that issue first - Kate's life choices - before he tackles her on her lie and their relationship._

 _I understand that there are a million different ways to look at this. None of them are wrong or wholly right. There's just your view and mine. We all see these characters based on our own life experience. I can only write them through the lens of my own experience. If you find a guy like Castle, hang on tight. Selfless, giving people like that are worth their weight in gold. They are not weak and they are not doormats, they're the people who allow the rest of us to make mistakes and to be selfish and not have the world stop turning as a result because they're there to grease the wheels, to forgive for the greater good. And sure the drama between them is amplified for this story, otherwise it would be the same old same old. But I hope you'll read it to the end before judging whether it worked or not. And equally, if them struggling towards some kind of agreement is not your thing, that's okay too. You shouldn't read stories you don't like or don't believe in. I know I don't._

 _But if you think Kate's behavior is too angry and OTT, hold onto one thought: she thinks Castle slept with the flight attendant and then paraded his conquest in front of her at work while she was trying to make herself good enough to be with him. For a character like Kate, fearful to give her heart, slow to trust, that must have been devastating. All of her actions now come from that one place of fear - she can't bear to look at what she "could have won"._

 _Apologies for the long note, but I'm hoping it might help. I hope everyone has a lovely weekend._


	9. Chapter 9

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 9_

" _It's the processing fee sometimes paid in addition to shipping when purchasing a mail-order item?"_ asked Jeopardy host, Alex Trebek.

"What is Handling," mouthed Castle, his voice just loud enough for the entire room to pick up. It was a small room.

"That's a full house by my reckoning," Aunt Libby helpfully pointed out, to Kate's annoyance, since she knew that her aunt's praise would only cause a round of faux-modesty on Castle's part and possibly contribute to him lingering even longer.

She felt on edge. They were sitting in Aunt Libby's formal living room; a chi chi parlor full of clashing floral prints in muted tones, flowers that climbed, crept, bloomed and flourished across curtains, walls and on carpets and rugs. It was a space that she reserved only for special occasions, like the holidays, or for visiting mystery authors, should the occasion arise, apparently.

Dinner had gone by civilly enough. Kate had dutifully passed serving dishes full of carrots and green beans garnished with flaked almonds and glistening dabs of butter (a dietary indulgence Aunt Libby usually only succumbed to on Thanksgiving). She smiled, she engaged in polite conversation and generally behaved as she knew her aunt would expect her to behave in front of a guest. But she felt Castle's eyes upon her the whole time and struggled not to stare back at him herself. Having him here in such close proximity, within a family setting she considered hers alone, felt raw and intimate, considering her reasons for leaving home. It was hard not to feel ambushed by the very man she'd come up to Maine to escape and to attempt to forget.

She had rallied of course, done her best. But now they were near the end of _Jeopardy_ and fast heading towards _Wheel of Fortune_ , and there was only so much faux-bonhomie Kate could take after a day spent on her feet, serving the public at _Milo's Fish Camp_. Besides, she needed time alone to ponder her partner - to mull his reasons for being here, his eagerness to talk to her all of a sudden, crossing all the lines they'd carefully established to protect themselves from disappointment over their years of working together. Not to mention coming to terms with this whole new method he was using to ease his way back into her life: via her beloved Aunt Libby.

She begin to watch him, surreptitiously, while he sipped ice tea from a dainty glass that looked more like a thimble in his large, meaty hands than the lemon-wedge decorated highball that it actually was. He was chatting to Libby about the folklore surrounding Maine fogs: "fogs so thick you can drive a nail into them and hang your hat on them", Libby thrilled to tell him. Castle was engrossed, genuinely giving Libby his full attention, and to see him like that, minus the smug, uncaring bluster he'd been dishing out when Kate had last been around him at the precinct, was compelling and confusing and it threw her right off her game to see the man she knew so well reemerge like a big, cuddly brown bear after weeks of self-enforced hibernation.

She missed this Castle, was the truth of the matter. She missed the man she had worked hand-in-hand with, cuffed together in a dark basement to escape the jaws of a tiger. The man who had tenderly touched her bare skin when they'd been injected, drugged and shackled. The man who'd apologized when he thought he couldn't save her from certain death. She missed the man whose face had appeared like a mirage from the cloud of dust in that bank vault, after her heart had nearly stopped with the force of an explosion she feared had stolen him from her forever. This sweetness, attentive care, his genuine interest in her aunt: this was the man she knew and loved best. And she wondered, for the umpteenth time, where he'd gone in the last few weeks. The stark changes in him enough to rob her of her faith in the possibility of a future "them" when he'd taken up with Jacinda. She could have borne the loss of anticipated intimacy, just, hard though that would have been. But to lose him as her partner had been a heartbreak too far. So she ran to protect her heart, and as she sneaked glances at him now, that whole nasty, confusing interlude seemed like nothing more than a bad dream.

* * *

"Katie?" she vaguely heard her aunt say, as she stared off into space, recalling with a sense of unreality how cold her partner had been around the time he had abandoned her for a racier, seat-of-the-pants, crime-fighting experience with Ethan Slaughter.

Alexis could not disguise her distain for and dislike of Kate since she'd watched her father put himself in harm's way to protect her when she got shot. The girl had also borne witness to the emotional damage Kate's self-imposed exile during her recovery had done to her dad – how brittle and cold he'd been when Kate had turned up at his book signing - not at all the kind, forgiving man she knew. So for Alexis to have had to watch these last few weeks as he dropped her for the even greater peril of partnering up with "The Widowmaker," must have been incredibly hard.

On so many levels Kate understood that she brought more harm than good into Richard Castle's life. And yet there were days - days when she was being kinder to herself - when she could see the good that she had given him too. The reinvigorated writing career and all that went along with that from a financial and self-esteem point of view. The pleasure he got from helping to solve cases, being part of a team, the camaraderie with the boys, a new set of friends. For a man who could be so confident, so charming, interesting and affable, and despite his wealth and popularity, he seemed to have few close friends when she met him. In fact, when she looked back on that time closely, he actually seemed lonely. While working as her partner he had grown up, seen sides to life that brought out his kindness and compassion and that challenged his intellect. He'd learned at least a little more patience, and if his desperate, panicked words to her had been more than a spur of the moment reaction to her rapidly fading pulse, he had learned to love again, after a series of short, failed relationships and even shallower dalliances.

"Beckett? Earth to Beckett? Hey, Kate? You okay?" Castle asked, finally getting her attention by reaching across her aunt's chair to touch her knee.

She jumped at the warmth and weight of his fingers curling around her bare kneecap. "What…oh, I'm fine." She blushed furiously while Castle watched her with wary eyes. Her confusion over him swam on the surface, as visible as oil on water. "Just…you know. A little pooped after a day on my feet." She fought to regain her sangfroid, failing miserably when Castle continued to stare.

She heard him struggle to his feet from the depths of the soft-cushioned armchair. "Well, I should really get going. Let you ladies turn in for the night," he offered politely, as he finally freed himself from the clutches of Aunt Libby's busily patterned accent chair; suddenly popping upright like a cork out of a bottle.

Aunt Libby made a clucking sound and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. She raised her eyebrows at Kate and pursed her lips in disapproval. When Kate failed to respond to this gestural prod, the older woman tipped her head to one side, bobbing it in the direction of the front door a couple of times, the movement so pointed Kate was worried her aunt might cause herself an injury. This signal, accompanied by a sharp glare, was supposed to be an encouragement (or an instruction, really) for Kate to walk Castle to the front door, or down the path, or if she stared any longer and any harder, her aunt might actually be suggesting, via this physical semaphore alone, that Kate walk her partner all the way home to his bed and breakfast.

"I can see myself out," Castle offered when Kate stubbornly remained rooted to her own chair, still caught out by old images of him, and him with her, that confused the hell out of her heart and weakened her resolve to just get over him and move on.

"You'll do no such thing," Libby protested. "Katie dearest," she said in a tone that none of them could misconstrue, "please walk our guest to the gate and bid him goodnight."

' _What is this, the 1920's?'_ Kate wanted to ask. Because the thought of being alone with him again, in a pretty English country-style garden, where lanterns like fireflies hung from the trees, surrounded by the romance of flowers, the scent of which was overwhelming at this time of night. It scared her.

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut, merely stood with a grunt over her own stiff limbs and made her way around Castle to the front door, while he lingered to kiss her aunt on the cheek, the pair of them making a charming production of ending their lovely, pie-making day together.

* * *

"Quite finished?" Kate asked dryly when Castle finally appeared in the hallway. She had her shoulder defiantly propped against the doorjamb to make her seem more casual than she felt, her head tipped down to stare at the rug, where roses and thorns entwined themselves around the trunk of a tree, and where she could avoid looking at her partner.

He sighed. "Don't worry, Beckett. I get the message. After tonight, I'm done. I'll pack up and go. I said what I came here to say and I failed. I'm not too big of a jerk to flog this dead horse any longer. I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow night and then you can make all the stupid, selfish mistakes you want."

The challenge in his words and its naked criticism piqued her in-built indignation at being told what to do by anyone. She stood up straight, her body going rigid. "How dare you!"

"How—?" He turned on her with equal fury blazing in his eyes. "Because if you care about someone you want what's best for them."

He took a step back and watched her swallow hard, saw her head shoot up, her eyes widen in panic and her skin flush.

"And sometimes that means doing things or…or saying things that make you unpopular. But I do care and so I came up here and I tried to make you see sense. But clearly you're not ready or interested in listening, so—"

"So?" Kate shrugged, fury and fear burning in her eyes. "You're giving up?"

She could see her own emotional flip-flopping a mile off shore in the dark, so it was no surprise that Castle was alive to her confusing behavior too. He had seen sides to her over the last few days that he'd never been exposed to before – stubborn and selfish, yes, but this was a whole new level of self-destruction and inner conflict.

"What exactly do you want from me?"

She groaned loudly, dropping her head into her hands, and he watched as all the air left her lungs when she folded in on herself. "I don't know," she admitted with a whine, as the fight drained out of her.

"Kate, you know me. I am a patient man. But without some kind of steer, some idea of where your head is at…"

"Give me one more day?" she asked, glancing back towards the lounge with a guilty, hunted look on her face. "I…I need time to think and I don't want to upset my aunt. She really likes you," she explained with a wan smile.

Castle tried to smile back but his effort was strained. "You have to do this for you. Whatever you decide. Not for Aunt Libby or your dad. Not for Captain Gates or the boys or Lanie. Not even…" He shook his head sadly and looked down at his steepled fingers, and then he cleared his throat. "Not even for me, Beckett," he added quietly, finally mustering a watery, self-depreciating smile. "Irresistible as I am."

Kate laughed, the sound emitted as half-sob, half-chuckle. "Can I call you in the morning? I'll see if Dan will give me the day off…"

"Weren't you already on suspension?" Castle pointed out, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah. Technically. But…"

"So you think you need permission to take a day, sort yourself out?"

Kate snorted and toed the rug. "Anyone sorts me out in a day, they deserve a freaking medal."

"Sign me up for the campaign, Beckett. I might just surprise you."

"Oh, you constantly surprise me. Don't worry about that." She crossed her arms over her chest and a calmer silence settled between them.

"So…how about we meet in town? There's a real old fashioned diner on Marginal Way," Castle suggested.

"Yeah, I know the one. Miss Portland. It's kind of a landmark."

"Then it's settled. I'll buy you breakfast, we can talk, and then you can bid me farewell. Sound like a deal?"

" _Real_ maple syrup? Not the fake, flavored stuff that comes in those tiny plastic tubs?"

Castle gasped, clutching his chest. "Is there any other kind?"

Kate grinned at his theatrics, at this carefree, optimistic Castle she knew so well. "You'd be surprised how stingy some of these old Yankees can be."

"Well, I think you're worth the real deal," he said, the warmest he'd been all evening. Though in truth his coldness was completely her own fault, and Kate knew it. Deep down, quickly rising to the surface, she knew it.

"I appreciate the sentiment." Kate smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her dress and then looked at the ground, running her bare arch back and forth over the edge of the top step. "So…I'll see you at Miss Portland at nine then? If that's good for you?"

"Perfect."

Castle hovered at the bottom of the porch steps, one foot on the brick path, the other resting on an antique brass boot scraper shaped like an elongated Dachshund. He was like a teenager, lingering because he didn't want his first date to end. Kate watched him, her amusement held inside lest he think she was making fun of him. "It is beautiful out here at night." He looked up at the night sky, and Kate held her breath to see if he'd say anymore.

As the crickets chirped their incessant muzak, and the splintering crack of a dog's bark broke the salty, sweet weight of the evening, Castle grew serious. "You know...you will figure this out, Beckett. Whatever changes you want to make to your life. It's…it's all just a matter of deciding what you want and then going for it," he tried to assure her. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with that promise he bid her goodnight.

If only life was that simple, Kate thought to herself, as she closed her aunt's front door and extinguished the porch lights.


	10. Chapter 10

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 10_

"What was that?"

Aunt Libby was waiting for Kate when she closed the front door and turned around. The older woman stared at her niece, eyes widened, her gaze level and patient as she awaited the answer to her question.

"Sorry? What was what?" Kate asked, her own face a mask of innocence she adorned with a forced smile.

"Don't play that game with me, Katie. You're not too long in the tooth for me to put over my knee, you know," Aunt Libby scolded.

Kate crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing the back of the right one with her left hand as though cold. "Let's go into the living room. Don't want you catching a chill."

"Sweetheart, it must be eighty degrees out right now. Come," she said, pausing in front of a marble topped table to straighten a rather ugly set of china dogs that had gone askew. "Come," she repeated, waving Kate after her as she made her way back into the bijou living room, where the remnants of their post-dinner tea things still sat on the antique end table beside her aunt's chair.

"Sit," Libby ordered, taking her own advice and then patting the arm of the chair next to hers for Kate to join her.

Kate hovered just inside the doorway, her eyes trained on Castle's used cup. "I'm tired, Aunt Libby. Maybe we could just—"

"Sit!" her aunt commanded, with a firmness that Kate could not recall her ever using before.

So she dutifully took a seat next to her aunt, in deference to her age and place of importance in Kate's life, and because she was floundering inside if she was being honest. She knew she wouldn't sleep right now even if she tried.

"I know you're not a big talker, Katie," her aunt began, worrying the buttons on her flared skirt with twisted, arthritic fingers. "But I can't just sit here and watch you torture yourself without trying to help you figure out a way through this. He's a good man, that writer of yours," she said, with a real passion behind her words.

"And you know this from spending a couple of hours making pie with him?" Kate snapped, once again the cornered animal she had felt when Castle poked and prodded her into facing up to the current issues in her life.

Aunt Libby nodded, no sign of any affront in her quiet, serene smile. "I know it from our chat, yes. Just as your mother knew it from his books. A blind man could tell that Richard Castle is a good person. A blind man could also tell you that he's in love with you. So tell me, why does that frighten you so much?"

" _Was_ in love with me," Kate went so far as to admit. "Was," she repeated quietly, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Why the past tense?"

"Do you know how I found out that he loved me? He told me the day I was shot. Did you know that? Not over dinner or at a movie. Not even in the ambulance or at the hospital, after surgery. When I was _lying_ on the grass, staring at the sky, fighting for every breath as I bled out." She bit her lip and stared at her knees. "In extremis. _That's_ when he told me."

The silence that filled up the small living room seemed solid enough to respond to gravity's pull, until Aunt Libby shattered the mystical construct with her pin-point logic.

"The timing doesn't make it any less valid."

"Oh, no? What if he was just panicked, hmm? Needed some way to catch my attention. To keep me from slipping under? With a mortal wound like that, staying awake is critical. Castle knows that. You keep the patient with you, you never let them pass out because once they're gone…" Kate turned to look at her aunt. "They're gone."

"Okay, then explain to me why he's here now?" her aunt asked in her clipped, no-nonsense fashion. "You're not dying now, Katie. Quite the opposite. You look the picture of health to me."

"If he loves me so much, why'd he abandon me to follow another cop? And why…" Her voice trailed off, hoarse with emotion, tight with hurt.

"Why what? Come now. Tell me what's troubling you?"

"Why did he sleep with someone else?"

Kate's aunt seemed lost for a second or two, and she watched as two fat tears rolled down her niece's flawless face. This information was news to her and it took a little time to regroup. "Did you know this person?" she asked, gently.

Kate sniffed and swiped at her cheeks. "No. She was a flight attendant he picked up on a trip to Vegas, of all places," she half-laughed, a hollow and bitter sound filled with mourning.

"And are you sure that they…" Her aunt trailed off, since her meaning was clear and she didn't have the words to ask Kate directly whether Rick Castle had slept with this stranger.

"As sure as I can be. Call it a hunch. He told me nothing happened between them. But he brought her to a crime scene. Paraded her, actually. She fit his profile. Well, I thought it was his _old_ profile. Pretty, blond, curvy. He let her take his car. I…he's never even offered me his Ferrari. Not once in four years."

"Did you ever ask to borrow it?"

Kate laughed. "No. The boys used to stitch him up on ridiculous bets to get a loan of it. Anyway, it's not about the car. The car is the least of my worries. They had a few dates after that…I really don't want to think about it."

"Is it possible he was—"

"What? Tired of waiting for me to get my act together?"

"You said it. Is that what you've been thinking?"

"He just seemed so angry. I thought we were getting closer, and then all of a sudden he became this cold, hard-eyed person I didn't know anymore. After that he started pulling away."

"Does he know how you feel about him, my dear?"

Kate's face flushed and she looked down at her lap, stretching her summer dress over her bare knees for something to do. "I thought he did. I thought he understood that I was working on things…that we were…"

"What?"

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough. I thought he'd agreed to wait. I wanted to solve my mom's case before…" She pushed her face into her hands and left it there for a few seconds, catching her breath. Aunt Libby reached over and rubbed her back.

"Katie, your mother died a long time ago. Do you think she'd want you putting your life on hold like this?"

"I can't abandon her."

Aunt Libby shook her head. "No one's asking you to do that. From what I've read in the papers and the stories he told today, you and Richard Castle make a formidable team. Might you not keep looking into your mother's murder _and_ have a life with this man too?"

"That supposes he hasn't changed his mind."

"Well, my dear, there's only one way to find out. You go and ask him."

Kate sniffed once more and sat up straight, resolved. "We've agreed to meet for breakfast tomorrow."

"And you're happy with that arrangement?"

She frowned, puzzled by her aunt's question. "What do you mean?"

"You'll sleep soundly tonight with all these issues unresolved?"

"I don't have a choice."

Aunt Libby laughed and patted her niece's hand. "Child, we always have choices. Sometimes you have to look past yourself to find them."

* * *

She sent the text message from the quiet of her room, hoping on one hand that he'd get it and reply, and hoping on the other that he was already asleep. The exchange went like this…

 _KB: Are you still awake?_

 _[Short pause]_

 _RC: Yeah. Problem?_

 _KB: No._

 _[Long pause]_

 _RC: Okay. If you're sure. Sleep well, Kate._

 _KB: Could you meet me at the dock?_

 _RC: Right now?_

 _KB: I'm sorry. You're right. It's late. I'm being stupid. G'night._

 _RC: I'll be there in fifteen. Down by the pier, where the fishing boats moor up._

 _KB: Great. See you there._

* * *

Kate grabbed a cotton sweater from the dresser, knotted it over her shoulders, and padded back downstairs. Her aunt appeared in the hallway just as she paused by the front door to slide her bare feet back into her Keds.

"Sneaking out?" her aunt asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Something like that," Kate nodded, bending down to kiss her aunt on the cheek.

"Make sure you listen, Katie, won't you?" her aunt warned. "Jumping to conclusions is dangerous. You should know that," she added, tapping Kate on the end of her nose as she had done when this beautiful woman was but a willful child.

"I promise I'll listen to him," she agreed, giving her aunt's shoulder a squeeze. Her chat with Libby had given her a sense of urgency, a sudden, overwhelming need to try and fix her issues with Castle once and for all. So she stood there, accepting a final piece of well-meaning advice from her ageing aunt with a restless impatience she has to fight to conceal.

"And don't be afraid to ask questions. You can work with facts, as well you know. But no one can live with doubt and suspicion for long or they go crazy. And you're far too young and pretty to be crazy this early on," her aunt grinned, giving her a cheeky wink.

"How about you go," Kate teased. "Since you've got this all figured out."

"And you will too, if you give him half a chance. No, go. Be safe out there," Aunt Libby warned, sending her niece off into the night with an airborne kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 11_

Metal rigging chinks somewhere high up in the darkness, the metallic beat like that of a frenzied metronome, as the boats tied up alongside sway side-to-side, bobbing on a lungful of breeze and the magnetic pull of the tide. Canvas creaks and the squeak of rubber fenders squeezed between boat and dock wall is strangely soothing. Every wheeze is like the asthmatic breath of something dark and ancient slumbering below the waterline. The air is warm and humid, and somewhere out in the blackness, just off-stage, crickets sing their wing-woven song.

The walk from her aunt's house to the dockside has cooled Kate's urgency somewhat; reality setting in as she neared the old dock, letting his fingers trail over the 'love locks' attached to the chain link fence. Adrenalin left her body as if diluted by the surrounding water, her passion cooling as she becomes more Kate, moving under her own steam, and less under the influence of Aunt Libby's wise counsel. She fumbles in her head for words to say, struggling to hold onto her reason for calling this late-night tryst. It seemed urgent when she texted, and now she has to fight to recall her original thoughts, which are fading from memory like invisible ink. This sensation of emotional amnesia leaves her feeling faintly embarrassed and anxious the more time goes on. How to explain herself? How indeed.

She knows it's ridiculous, but she finds herself wishing that her aunt were here with her now. The older woman talks a lot of sense, her faith and her goodness gives Kate courage. Aunt Libby manages to maintain some objectivity, or appears to, despite being invested in a happy future for her niece. She'd make a good go-between, and maybe that's all she and Castle have needed all along: to get over themselves and go to counseling, if they couldn't find the words to tell one another how they felt, to ease themselves out of the Doldrums and into the slipstream of life. But then maybe requiring an intervention before you're even together doesn't bode well for the future of any relationship, Kate thinks, as she sits down on the edge of the dock to dangle her legs.

One thing is clear: without her aunt's patient, reasonable voice in her head, Kate begins to spiral back over all the events that drove her to Maine in the first place: the heartache and disappointment, watching Castle turn into this hard-hearted human being she felt she barely even knew. That feeling of "so near and yet so far" that drove her out of New York and carried her here: to the point of moving on. Or was it really giving up?

* * *

Above the briny din of Mother Nature's orchestra, Kate finally hears his footsteps. Crisp and with a rhythm all their own. She'd know them anywhere.

"Beckett?" He appears to be a little out of breath when her name pierces the nocturnal cacophony that surrounds them.

Kate turns her face towards him, catching his eyes shining in the dark like black leather buttons.

"Everything okay? Is Aunt Libby alright?"

He's slightly panicked as well as out of breath, and this feeling of false alarm or of having cried wolf causes a resurgence of Kate's embarrassment as she struggles with how to explain. So she nods. "Everything's fine," she answers flatly.

Castle stays at a slight remove, near enough to hear her but far enough away that she can tell he senses all in the garden is not rosy.

"Was there…some reason you wanted to see me tonight?" he asks, wary of her all over again. "Something that couldn't wait until breakfast?"

Because he'd been so hopeful for breakfast and all that it seemed to promise, and now he feels the cold fingers of fear creeping like an armless hand up his back, one vertebra at a time.

Kate turns to face the open water of the harbor once more, and with Castle behind her – listening but unseen – the dimly lit dockside is like a confessional; the quiet and privacy it provides enough to allow her to begin spilling her secrets once and for all.

"I didn't want a partner."

These words come out of nowhere, out of stillness and silence, dredged up from the depths and sounding so pained. Her back is still to him as she sits on the dock, her feet dangling in the bay, which, at high tide, rises further up her calves on every shoreward sway of water.

Her breathing increases, short inhales that speed the pattern of her speech, making her sound faintly panicked. Her chest feels tight.

"I didn't want a partner. I didn't _want_ a partner, Castle. But you forced your way in anyway."

He sits heavily, doesn't know what to say. He asked for it, he supposes: to know the truth, to understand why she's running away now. So he lets her talk or vent really, without interruption from him for a change. Because this is new and yet old all at once. He can't quite believe she's going back so far. He thought she was over all of this: the Mayor, his phone call, and the book deal that came on the back of it. Nothing makes sense anymore. And then she's talking again and he has to concentrate just to piece everything together.

"You forced your way into my life and you just wouldn't leave." She sounds kind of heartbroken rather than pissed, distressed as he's ever heard her, and he doesn't quite get it. The words she's saying up until now shouldn't lead to this kind of heartache.

"You made me look at things differently. At the world. _My_ world. You made me lift my head and start to wonder…what if?"

She sounds exhausted now, almost whispering, and he holds his breath to see if there's anymore.

"You showed me glimpses of the life I could have had. I started to want things I hadn't longed for in years." She also sounds afraid, maybe shocked if he had to put a name to it. "You made me _feel_ things. I didn't want to feel anything...not after she was gone."

"So why leave?" He risks this one question, since it is the crux of everything for him.

"I wasn't the one who left. You left me."

He swallows, nods his head slowly. It's a fact, though the underlying reason may have been her fault. He reacted impulsively, by leaving, instead of asking the questions he should have asked. Instead of confronting her, calling her on her lie or asking for an explanation, he made assumptions and then he ran too. To learn more tonight, to see further inside her head, his acknowledgement of her statement is measured. "Okay."

"Why did you go?" She's turning the tables now.

 _Why did you lie?_ is the question on the tip of his tongue, but he'll get to that. He's learning far more by just letting her talk.

He offers her a minimal response to keep things moving along, to get her to keep opening up. "I didn't really go anywhere. Just—look, I made a mistake following Slaughter, but I couldn't be around you anymore."

This is way more than he intends to reveal, and once it's out there he hopes she maybe won't notice. But this is Kate Beckett, detective extraordinaire. Of course she'll notice.

"So what the hell are you doing here now?"

They're both getting angry and scared, starting to trade jibes as if tonight's earlier détente hadn't even happened.

"I made a mistake. I said already."

"What mistake? Flying to Maine on a…a whim?"

"You think this is a whim?"

"A hunch. Whatever."

"Do you have any idea what it's costing me to be here?"

Kate eyes him suspiciously. Again, he's revealed too much. So he goes back on the attack, trying to elicit more from her instead of spilling his innards on this dockside like so many stinking fish guts.

"What did you mean before, about wanting things? What things?" he asks.

"No. No, Castle, not until you tell me what you mean by this is costing you? What exactly have you done?" Kate demands to know.

"Forget it. It's nothing." He physically bats the question away with a swipe of his hand.

"Tell me. Are you missing a deadline? Hmm? Some book tour event or…or what?"

"Something like that," he offers noncommittally. "Doesn't matter. What matters is getting to the bottom of why you thought you had to up and leave your life behind like you were entering WITSEC?"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Your cell phone was turned off. You changed your name, Kate. You left without telling your dad where you were going. Even the boys could only offer up a…a _city_."

"What'd that cost you?" she laughs, hollowly.

"Less than you'd expect. And probably more than I'm capable of delivering."

"Sounds expensive."

He thinks about his promise to the guys that he'll be the best partner any cop and any woman has ever had, and then he thinks about his promise to Alexis: that he'll fix things or walk away for good this time. "Yeah. Could end up costing me everything."

* * *

Silence ripples between them, calm and still for a moment, like a slack tide about to turn. Before and after coalesce with the promise of a tipping point: maybe some new direction, if they're really lucky. Maybe oblivion, if they're not.

Out of the silence comes Kate's voice, measured and just the tiniest bit sad. "I left for lots of reasons. Part of me wondered if it wasn't better that way. You were moving on. You had Slaughter. You've done all the research with Homicide you'll ever need. Hell, you've seen things guys with twenty years under their belts never get to see. I just assumed you didn't need us anymore." Her tone turns more brittle, her spine rigid and she hugs her arms around her body as if it's cold, when in reality it's anything but. "Maybe you were bored. I don't know," she shrugs.

He hears _tired of waiting_ in her explanation, though she fails to say those actual words. He's projecting, he knows, but then it's not that big of a leap. She did offer him things, or so he thought. She either changed her mind or couldn't follow through for whatever lousy reason he may never know. Even now, trying to be straight with one another, they're failing miserably.

"I just didn't understand why you turned so cold all of a sudden. I won't lie. That part hurt, Castle." She takes a breath, brushes her hair away from her face when the breeze begins to toy with it, annoying her. She sniffs. "But I'm being unfair, I know. I left you without a word for three months straight, right? What's a dose of my own medicine? Anyway…I'm here now. And you have Jacinda or whoever. That part is over."

"What part?"

"The hard part. All of it. The packing up and moving on part." She smiles bravely. "No goodbyes, right? That's how you like it, as I recall."

"How—How I _like it?_ " He stammers, under pressure, anger flaring. "Beckett, are you _insane?_ You think I'm here because I'm happy you left? What…like this is some, 'oops we forgot a farewell party, here's your going away gift' type thing?"

"Unless I failed to teach you as well as I thought I had, I was gone for over a week before you even realized. You'd moved on too. Don't try to pretend that you hadn't. I'll bet you only showed up at the precinct looking for a favor the day you realized I wasn't on the job anymore."

Castle looks uncomfortable, he scuffs the ground with his shoe, because she's right. In the glittering dark, their eyes kiss like marbles and glance away.

Kate bites her lip and drops her head. A cynical smile curls her lips and she nods. "I'm right, aren't I?" She slaps her bare thigh when he doesn't answer, flesh stinging at the sharp strike, which perversely feels good. She takes a breath, slowly shaking her head, and she tosses him a grin. "Damn, sometimes I hate it when I'm right."

* * *

He'd been so focused on how _he_ felt when he shut her out, before she left town. And since he got to Maine, he's been so fixated on trying to figure out what's going on with _her_ that he's begun to neglect himself and his feelings as of today, tonight. What does he feel for her anymore? Does he even know? One thing's for sure, he's seen sides to her over the last few days that make him question the relentless path he'd set himself on – that it was Kate Beckett for him at any cost and no matter how long it took for that dream to come to fruition. Now, he's not so sure that ideal is right for any of them anymore.

"I asked to see you tonight because my aunt thought it was a better idea," Kate admits.

"Better than what?"

"Than waiting. For breakfast."

"You mean like ripping off a Band-Aid type thing?"

That's not what Aunt Libby thought or meant at all. The old woman's plan ran more along the lines of 'if you love him, don't delay another second.' But she hasn't the heart or the stomach to tell Castle this because she's become more and more convinced that he doesn't remotely feel the same anymore.

"We…we've both made mistakes. Castle, if I could go back…"

"That's the thing, you can't," he answers flatly. "No one can."

"So there's no hope?" she asks quietly, flip-flopping again. It's as if she wants him to save them both while she actively pushes him away, and when he runs, she finds herself running after him. If they ever end up on the same emotional page at the same time, it'll be a freaking miracle.

"Hope?" Castle asks, deep puzzlement in his voice. He frowns, peering at her, his forehead lined with confusion, as if she's just tried to explain quantum theory in Serbo-Croat.

"Feelings change, I guess," she chokes out, biting down hard on her lip, trying not to cry. She's never felt worthy or him or believed that she deserved his love. Accepting that she was right all along is agony nonetheless.

"Guess you're right," Castle answers bitterly, his own throat emotionally clogged, like a drain full of dead hair.

"And there's no way back?" she says again, offering him a final way in.

But he doesn't hear the question in her voice or he chooses to ignore the chink of light it offers. He doesn't have to try hard to resist telling her that he loves her. He's not so sure of anything anymore. She's giving him an opening, but he shies away. Mostly, it's because of the sides he's seen to her on this visit – her stubbornness, her faulty self-reliance and her self-destructive nature. He has a daughter to think about. He needs to put her first.

He stands up straight and takes a deep breath, brushing tiny pieces of crushed oyster shell from the back of his jeans. "Maybe you're right, you know. Maybe you don't need anyone else? Maybe you don't need some guy like me messing up your ordered life. Making you _want_ …things."

He sounds dismissive, faintly sarcastic when he feeds her own words back to her, and it hurts like hell. Tears spring to her eyes, which are hidden by the darkness, and she bows her head over her knees as he prepares to walk away.

"I'm sorry, Beckett. I'll let you go. This was all a huge mistake." He coughs, rubs the back of his neck, and it's all unbearably awkward, shoe leather scraping the hardtop and sounding as loud as gunfire. "I'm out," he says with a grim finality, before turning to leave.

As he walks away, it dawns on him that they won't be having breakfast. No teasing arguments about maple syrup, no banter over coffee, no pancakes, no nothing. He came up here with good intentions and he failed. He's going home now. He's going home alone. And for the very first time, it's hard not to feel relieved.


	12. Chapter 12

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 12_

His flight was scheduled to leave in an hour. He bought an espresso and a newspaper - an overpriced copy of the _New York Times_ that, despite being printed locally, cost him a dollar extra for the Sunday edition, up here out of state. The newspaper would kill the time, ease him back into city living and take his mind off the complete failure he'd made of coming to Maine and trying to persuade Kate Beckett to come home to her old life.

And him. To come home _with him_.

He had choked. He knew it. Kate saw it clear as day, he was sure. He knew how he felt about her. Or at least he thought he did when he flew up here after her. She'd already heard him tell her how he felt about her. But when push came to shove, that scene, those images through the one-way glass, hearing her confess a truth he'd long suspected she'd been keeping from him to a complete stranger – a suspect, no less – still hurt bad enough to fill his mouth with enough kitty litter to gag an elephant. And so he'd choked. He had choked on _her lie._ Add in the arguments they'd had since he came up here, her stubbornness, his failure to just sit her down and explain once and for all what he'd hoped they might make of a life together, and he'd choked big enough to require the Heimlich maneuver.

After the dismal drama on the dockside, he had walked back to the B&B a depleted man, unable to even recall the route he took home. He stripped off his clothes like a robot, got into bed without even brushing his teeth, where he slept fitfully, tortured awake by nightmares every hour or so.

Around six, he tumbled down another dark hole into a cruel and lifelike dream. Kate was waiting for him when he arrived for breakfast at the _Miss Portland_ diner the very next morning, as they had originally planned. Since he had turned up earlier than the agreed time, as was his style, she'd clearly made efforts to be there even earlier than him. Her excuse was the lack of tables, tables quickly snapped up by visiting tourists intent on a memorable Sunday brunch. Castle's heart wanted to parley her promptness into something more meaningful – an eagerness to see him mostly, maybe nerves, if he was being less optimistic. Whatever, she was there before him with a pair of swivel seats claimed at the counter, a light, gauzy knit he'd never seen before cast over the back of the chair that was to be his.

In the dream version of his life, Castle was vibrating with nerves. Gone was the normally cool, laidback, charming exterior. On display today, totally in the driving seat, was the inner child who knew everything was riding on the outcome of this breakfast meeting. His future, her future, were in the sweaty, trembling hands of the unsophisticated boy who had none of the suave optimism adult Castle had cultivated over years of life experience and proven success. His heart was pounding and he needed the bathroom the second Kate turned in her chair to toss a beaming smile in his direction.

He woke up tangled in motel-grade poly cotton sheets. His brow scrunched into a frown and he groaned into the drool-dampened pillow when reality came thundering in to crush his hopes. There would be no smiling, no breakfast, no nothing but an expensive airline ticket change fee and a flight he would do his best not to remember.

* * *

Aunt Libby's bedroom light was still on when Kate arrived home, exhausted, feeling rent in two. She'd only turned away from locking up when she heard her aunt's slippered footsteps padding down the stairs.

They sat in the kitchen and sipped chamomile tea. The room felt confining and Kate had to stand. Words began pouring out of her, words of failure, but also words that were true and brave and honest for their telling to another living soul.

"I'm no good at asking for anything. I…I just _can't_ bring myself to ask for anything." Kate ran her hands through her hair as she paced the dainty kitchen from end to end. "I'm too complicated for him. Too broken. Too stubborn. I just couldn't do it."

Aunt Libby tilted her head to one side and smiled softly. "But don't you see, child? By not asking for anything you stole from him." She paused to let this horrible truth sink in. "You stole the future he was hoping for, Katie. And, sweetheart, you also stole from yourself."

"I—" Kate floundered, fighting to understand her aunt's reasoning. It seemed like a simple thing and yet she struggled to bend her mind around the logic of it. Alone and self-sufficient for too long, fearful of relying on anyone, scared to love in case she messed up or found herself alone again, the art of asking and giving had deserted her as a girl. "I'm not sure I understand," she admitted, her eyes dancing over her aunt's kindly, weathered face, searching for the answer.

"There are times in life, times like tonight, Katie, when asking actually turns out to be giving. By asking for help you allow someone to feel good, useful, wanted when they give you that help. What you did tonight was push Richard away. Deny him. You took the love you know he feels for you, and instead of returning it or acknowledging it, you hid it away like a dirty secret. You lied to him with your silence and you pushed him away because you're afraid."

Kate bit her lip. "I've been lying to him since it happened. But I thought he'd maybe let it go."

"So you think he knows that you lied to him? And you believe you deserve to be forgiven?"

Kate's mind was a mess of assumptions and paranoia, more than hard proof. Traits that went against everything she lived by when doing her job, where evidence was king and the only good theory was one that followed the facts. "I don't know. I…I was never sure. He asked what I remembered a couple of times. But he never pushed when I told him that I didn't remember anything. Then he kind of dropped it. Then he gave up and walked away. I assumed he was tired of waiting." Kate rubbed a tear from her cheek with the heel of her hand, finding her skin tight and crusty with salt. "Now he's dropping it for good."

"And are you happy that it's over? He's going back to his old life and you can work on finding some new direction for yourself." Her aunt laid the facts bare in this summation, with this question. No sugarcoating the pill.

A painful sob, like an indigestible ball of grief, lodged itself in Kate's chest, setting up an unbearable burning sensation around her heart. She shook her head rapidly when the words wouldn't come, and Aunt Libby rose from her kitchen chair to come to her niece's aid, taking her arm and guiding her over to sit.

The older woman stroked Kate's hair and rubbed her back, wrapping her up in a hug when her niece's head finally dropped against her pillowy chest and the tears began to fall. "Shh," she shushed, whispering kindnesses and the well-meant platitudes of the old and the full of forgiveness. "Nothing's too broken that can't be fixed. Not if you're both still alive and kicking."

"But he's done," Kate admitted for the first time out loud, terrifying herself sane with the truth of these words. "I gave him an opening. I gave him a couple. He didn't take them. And who can blame him?"

"Child, he chased you all the way up here. He was more persistent these last days than any man I've ever seen woo a woman around these parts. And I know you think I'm an old meddler, but from what little time I spent with the man, I can tell you he loves the very bones of you, my dear."

Kate sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

"Now, what you do with that information is entirely up to you. But you don't look like a woman who is ready to move on without a fight. At the very least an honest conversation. He's done his part, now you must do yours."

"That's the problem. Face-to face we're incapable of honesty when it comes to anything beyond this amazing partnership we've made."

"And hiding from your feelings…where did that get you? Huh? Sobbing on your old auntie's robe is where?"

Kate laughed a watery laugh and Aunt Libby chucked her cheek.

"That's better. You have such a pretty smile. Now, I suggest you take some time. Figure out the truth of how you feel, then figure out the words, and then you write those words down if you have to so that you can tell that good man once and for all what's going on inside that head of yours. You need to tell him why you're so afraid and what your heart is hoping for. Because if someone deserves a little happiness in this life, my dear girl, it's you. After you picked yourself up..." Aunt Libby choked a little on her own words, tears rising in her eyes when she continued. "...and the things you've done for that city, given what that city stole from our family all those years ago."

Kate nodded thoughtfully, her mind already running at a hundred thoughts a second.

Aunt Libby squeezed and patted her shoulder. "At the end of the day, child, you have nothing left to lose."

* * *

Castle sank into his chair by Kate's empty desk with the exhaustion of an old man.

"At least you gave it a shot. Right, Kev?" Esposito said, giving Ryan a worried look over the top of Castle's head.

"Yeah, man. This is Beckett we're talking about. Does her own thing. Always has," Ryan offered up, trying to break the writer's hopeless mood.

"Don't beat yourself up. You tried your best."

"Yeah, well, my best clearly wasn't enough," Castle muttered, bitterly.

"Says who?" Lanie asked, giving him a hard, meaningful stare, which he missed entirely from down in the depths of his funk.

"Says…she's not here. I went all the way up there. I borderline stalked her, I'm telling you. Showed up to that bar day-after-day. I even started a new book…not that she wanted to read it. Said that was part of her old life. So, yeah, digging for clams with good old Dan, picking blueberries, making pie with her sweet aunt, whom I _loved_ by the way. All of it was for nothing. Didn't matter what I did, I still failed. _And_ Alexis hates me."

"Whoa. Back up. Why does Little Castle hate you?" asked Esposito, frowning at Lanie, who was frantically trying to tell him something he still wasn't getting.

Castle also failed to catch the loaded looks traded between them, his head tipped down between his open knees towards the floor; the very definition of dejected.

"I missed her graduation," he mumbled, abjectly.

Lanie hopped down off Kate's old desk, shaking her head as if she had water in her ears. "I'm sorry. What now?" she demanded, leaning down to meet Castle's eyes.

"I can't repeat it. It's too painful," he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"You missed your own daughter's graduation to go flying off to Maine to chase after Beckett? Is that what you just said?"

"Not in so many words, no. I was there, but…" He slumped in shame. "Long and short…yeah," he mumbled, dropping his head back into his hands.

Before anyone could react or summon the words to comment, one clipped, steely voice stole everyone's thunder.

"Are you _kidding me?_ "

All four adults spun at once. Like compass needles finding magnetic north, they turned to locate the source of that voice. There, standing on the edge of the bullpen beside a large suitcase and a battered leather backpack, dressed in jeans and an old plaid shirt, stood one furious looking Kate Beckett.

* * *

 _A/N: Bravo if you're hanging in there. xoxo_


	13. Chapter 13

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 13_

In a roomful of busy people, it's quite possible to achieve a state of absolute stillness and utter silence. If you drop a big enough bomb, that is.

The bullpen froze for several interminable seconds, time stretched like plastic explosive over the question Kate Beckett had just lobbed into the air.

"I—"

Castle swallowed hard, gaping wide-eyed at Kate as if she was returned from the dead, and hadn't just hopped on a later flight at Portland Airport to follow him back to New York City.

"I—"

He tried again, but his effort was as useless as if his gag reflex was now in charge.

"All that time…" Kate's eyes blazed as she stared at him, her gaze going nowhere else. "All that time you…you _wasted_ showing up to…to… _what_? Hmm? To _woo_ me into coming back here? And you— _Ugh!_ "

She ran her hands through her hair and turned her back on him, shaking her head in disbelief all the while.

"You idiot!" she yelled, whipping around to let him see her anger, as if it was her he had let down and not his beloved daughter.

"I'm seeing Gates tomorrow," Kate calmly informed Ryan and Esposito, turning to address them as if she'd just flicked Castle off like a switch. "Just thought I'd drop by and…yeah," she muttered, hastily gathering up her belongings and heading for the exit.

Castle lurched after her. "Kate, wait…"

"Don't follow me," she said, raising her voice loud enough for him to hear.

"Kate—"

"Don't!"

And then she was gone.

* * *

Lanie caught up with her friend on the street outside, standing by the curb with her bags at her feet and her arm in the air.

"Offer my long-lost girlfriend a ride?"

Kate smiled sheepishly and looked down at her boots. "How about a bed for the night? Think you could run to that too?"

" _Okaaay._ Any reason?"

Kate cringed. "I rented out my apartment on Airbnb. The tenants don't leave until Wednesday."

"So you weren't planning on coming back just yet?"

Kate shook her head. "No." That was all she offered, but the M.E. could see that there was more she wasn't saying.

" _And_ …maybe you had another place to stay in mind? When you hopped on that airplane this morning?" Lanie suggested, injecting her voice with a little sauce to tease her friend.

"God, Lane," Kate groaned, shaking her head with regret. "This is such a mess."

"Then can I ask what brought you racing down here in such a hurry with no bed for the night?"

"I think you just did."

"And do I get an answer or…?"

"Buy me a drink and we can talk."

Lanie took Kate's arm and began steering her in the direction of her parked car. "I have a better idea. How about we go home first? We can raid Javi's secret stash of tequila."

"Secret stash?"

"Yeah, the man thinks I don't know he keeps a bottle of Patrón hidden in the back of my closet."

Kate frowned. "Never had Javi pegged as a secret drinker?"

Lanie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He isn't. Damn fool claims tequila makes me…" She wiggled her eyebrows as she nudged Kate in the side, big brown eyes twinkling playfully. "You know… _horny_ ," she laughed.

Kate groaned and looked faintly horrified.

"Too much?" Lanie asked, laughing at her embarrassed friend.

"Mood I'm in? Maybe just a little."

"Come on. I'll cook, we can drink and you can tell me all about it."

Kate reached for Lanie's arm and squeezed it lightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

"What for?"

"For…" Kate rolled her eyes. "For not hating me for disappearing on you again."

"Honey, you do what you need to do. We're friends no matter what. That's what the girl code means, right? Good times and bad."

"Sure. But thanks, anyway. For being so cool about everything."

Lanie smiled, pleased by Kate's gratitude. "What can I say? Cool is my middle name."

* * *

Later, after dinner at Lanie's apartment where they'd decided to settle in for the evening, Kate lifted her wine glass and swirled it around. She followed the eddy of liquid light skimming the sides of the glass as if she was witnessing magic, mesmerized.

Lanie stared into her own glass, her gaze far off and dreamy. "It just sounds so romantic. The idea of him flying up there to find you. No man has ever done anything like that for me."

"Well, you don't exactly run away from your problems," Kate pointed out, dryly.

"Still…sounds kinda perfect."

"It could have been perfect. _Should_ have," Kate raged, quietly. "If I'd gotten out of my own way for once. Coming up there after me…" She shook her head in disbelief that it had ever happened. "I never expected that. Not for a second. I thought everything we had was over. Then he tracked me down, Lanie. Found out where I worked. The charming idiot even wooed my Aunt Libby, and she's no fool. He got her totally on side. She sang his praises dawn to dusk. Do you know how hard that was to hear when I was trying to put the whole mess of our non-relationship behind me…to move on?"

"So what went wrong?" Lanie was calm, non-judgemental, as she picked through the story her friend was offering up in fits and starts with the care and focus of a woman used to wielding a scalpel to look for unspecified physiological clues.

"Honestly? I don't know." Kate drew her knees up to her chest.

"How about you try," Lanie gently pushed.

Kate shrugged and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders, huddling in on herself. "The usual, I suppose. He kept telling me I was making a mistake with my life. This man…this _father_ who I'd last watched go running around town after a dangerous cop other cops call 'The Widowmaker.' And then there he was telling me what I should and shouldn't do with my life. I was so angry at him, Lanie. For presuming, for pushing his nose in again, for…for stopping me from forgetting. How could I do that when he kept showing up? And dammit but he looked so good." She gave in to a wry laugh at the irony of trying to shake off a man she felt more and more attracted to no matter how annoyed and stirred up he made her feel.

"Doesn't sound all bad," Lanie ventured.

"We had our moments. Seeing him with my aunt…" She smiled at her friend, her face softening, her eyes full with the memory. "Lanie, he felt like family. More than anyone I've ever been with. I could see him fitting in. But that just made things harder."

"This doesn't sound as bad as Castle was saying."

"I pushed him away a lot. That part is true. When you've come to the decision that it's time to move on, when you've watched the other person and they've already moved on…I didn't want to put myself through that upheaval again. Not without some guarantee."

"Kate, life doesn't come with guarantees. You know that."

"I do. But when it came down to it, even _he_ was too afraid to tell me how he felt. He just kept going on and on about my job and my choices and how I was throwing my life away. He wasn't offering something more to come back for. Nothing more than the status quo at any rate."

Lanie took a slow breath and leaned forward on the sofa. "But you already know how he feels about you, Kate. The whole of the Twelfth Precinct knows how Richard Castle feels about you. All the thousands of random strangers who buy his novels even know how he feels about you. What's the problem here? I don't see it. What more proof do you need?"

As usual, Kate chose deflection over answering her friend's on-point questions. She stared at her jeans, picking at a fraying thread from the rip on one knee. "He missed his daughter's graduation. How _could_ he?" She sounded anguished at the thought of this.

"Are you certain about that? I'm not so sure that's what he said. But, yeah, whatever...that was pretty shocking, I'll admit. But since you didn't find that out until a few hours ago, let's get back to Portland. He ran after you, made your aunt fall in love with him, even baked you _a pie_ from what I hear. So what exactly was the problem?"

"If he isn't sure enough to say the words, Lanie, am I just supposed to take it on trust? Change my plans and follow him back here because he says he cares about me after he up and walked away? He _broke up_ our partnership for no good reason. He picked up some random stranger on a flight home from Vegas after he got up to God knows what. How can I trust him not to just up and walk away again when the going gets tough?"

Lanie reached out, put her hand on top of Kate's where she was fidgeting with the base of her glass. "He didn't tell you that he loved you and yet you came back anyway. That must tell you something about how _you_ feel _and_ about the faith you maybe still have in him."

"But this running and hiding, the push and pull, not saying what we mean…it has to stop."

"You do know that's _you_ you're mostly talking about, right?" asked Lanie, giving her friend a quasi-amused, quizzical look.

Kate nodded and bit her lip, her sad smile sheepish. "Part of me is glad we had that time away from everything. No phones, no interruptions, no cases demanding our attention. But I should have made more of it. Let him in. And Slaughter…I was so glad to hear that he'd left Slaughter."

"You're not the only one. Dropped him like a hot brick the second he knew you were gone, so I heard."

"Up in Maine there was no way to hide from the fact that the reason we were both in Portland was because we were more than partners. We were friends…"

"Kate, you two are way more than friends. You have been for a long time."

"So why don't we act like it? We're not kids, Lanie. There's just…there's this barrier that comes up and…I don't want to hurt him and I don't want to wreck what we had before, but I'm not convinced we'd work as a couple. He drives me insane sometimes. He's not even my type."

"And how's your type been working out for you lately? Huh?"

"Fair point. In my head I've been committed to Castle for so long now, but I just can't seem to get us over the line. It's like we're stuck in the friend zone."

"So nothing happened in Portland? Am I right? Nothing of a romantic nature?"

Kate blushed and looked at her feet, then she shook her head. "He held my hand once. And there was this one moment I thought he might kiss me but…he pulled back and…the moment passed."

"Do you hear yourself? This isn't like you. To be so passive. You ran away to Maine, Kate. You upped and left your job, this city, your friends, security…"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that those choices took guts, drive, real determination."

"And?"

"And when it comes to Richard Castle you turn into a bowl of Jello."

Kate rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle of wine.

"You ran away from your life because staying to watch him risk _his_ life with Slaughter was too painful to bear. The thought of him being with another woman, when he'd gone so cold on you, so off-hand with your relationship, was impossible to stick around and watch. Am I getting warm?"

"Maybe. Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's just not meant to be."

"And yet here you are again worrying this thing to death. Do you love him, Kate?"

"What?"

"Answer me honestly. Just this one simple question. Do you love him?" she pressed. Kate nodded, reluctantly. "Then I don't see a problem. And if there is one, it's that you're too similar."

Kate's eyes grew wide. "I'm nothing like him."

"Hell, on the surface, maybe. But you do like him and you're both terrible at communicating with one another. That makes you two fools the same in my book."

Kate made a scoffing sound and put her glass down on the coffee table, swapping it for one of Lanie's throw pillows, which she proceeded to hug.

"You care about him, Kate, and that's all that matters when the chips are down. He's got your back. You've got his. You can't keep complaining that he didn't tell you he loved you if he has no idea that you love him back. Why hold him to such high standards and yourself to something lower, something safer? That's just not fair."

"But he's always been the one who did the chasing."

"Voila! So maybe he's tired of chasing? Maybe dropping everything, including his kid, to run after you to another freaking state was a humiliation too far. What do I know? It is possible, given what he said today, that he thinks this thing between you is a lost cause. But how would he know, Kate? He's a writer, not a mind reader."

Kate dropped her head into her hands. "So…what do I do?" she practically whined.

"Unless you want to watch him walk away for good this time, I suggest you grab what life is offering you and you tell him how you feel. You take a risk and you tell him everything. What's the worst that can happen? He says oops that's nice but I don't feel the same anymore and you both get over it and move on with your lives. That's what you're facing now anyway. It's crunch time, Kate. Get off the bench and back in the game."

"That's what Aunt Libby said. Not those exact words but..."

"So, two strong, wise, independent women aren't enough for you? You want me to go canvas the entire neighborhood looking for more advice? Because they'll all say the same. If you love him, put him out of his misery. Do yourself that one favor."

Kate yawned. "I couldn't sleep last night. I am so tired. And I'm still angry at Castle for trying come to the rescue and fix my mess instead of focusing on Alexis. That's so unlike him."

"Javi said he seemed pretty upset when he found out you'd packed up and left without saying goodbye. Like he suddenly got his head out of his ass and came to his senses. Seems to me Castle doesn't have to use any words to tell you how he feels about you, Kate. The guy's been showing you how he feels for most of the last four years. Despite what did or didn't go on between you before you left, he still felt strongly enough, when push came to shove, to put you first. That says a lot."

"So what you're politely trying to say is that it's time I got _my head_ out of my ass?"

Lanie grinned. "That would be one way of putting it."

Kate sighed and put her glass down. She checked her dad's watch. "Look, it's getting late. If you don't mind, I think I'll turn in for the night. Sleep on it. My mom always said even the biggest problem looks better in daylight."

"While we ladies look better by candlelight," Lanie joked, happy to see that she could make her friend smile too. "Fine," she agreed. "Just don't leave it too long to let that man know that all is not lost, Kate. He's been through enough already. You both have. And if I know that little redhead, she'll be guilting him out of his Amex card as we speak. Save him and you might just end up saving yourself, honey."

* * *

 _A/N: From the early reviews coming in for this chapter it seems not to be clear that Kate overheard Castle telling the guys at the precinct in Ch12 that he messed up over Alexis' graduation to come looking for her. She's angry at him for choosing her over his own daughter, for wasting time in Maine when he could have been with his daughter. That's why she walked away, ending up at Lanie's. She needs time to deal with this fact and cool down. Hope that's clear. Seems to me it's a very Beckett thing to do - to be furious with him for not putting Alexis first. And of course this story has leaps and exaggerations in it, otherwise how do you create new drama. As fan fiction writers we're always trying to push the envelope, heighten tension to make a story, and very often it can end up feeling artificial, don't think I'm not aware of that. The push and pull of them nearing the edge and then backing away again took years to resolve on the show. It's how they are. You won't like or agree with every choice a FF writer makes, but then the same can be said of the show's official writers too. I'm just telling a story, playing around to squeeze the most out of this idea. If you don't like it, doesn't mean that it's wrong. Just comes down to taste. There is no wrong in FF-land. No one's getting paid. Cheers for reading._


	14. Chapter 14

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 14_

Captain Gates raised her head from the stack of papers she had to sign at the sound of the brusque knock. Her glasses were perched low on the end of her nose and she peered at Kate over the top of the shiny black frames.

"Detective Beckett. Please come in. Take a seat."

Kate closed the glass door behind her and took the seat she was being offered. Hearing her Captain still refer to her by her title comforted her somewhat, though she knew that the opportunity to return to her previous post was by no means a done deal. Gates had made that perfectly clear when she had called from Portland Airport the day before to set up this face-to-face meeting. Whether Gates just wanted a chance to torture her a little longer or whether her value to the team was now in doubt, given her hasty and maybe slightly melodramatic departure for Maine, only the next few minutes would tell.

Kate perched on the edge of the guest chair, straightening her back and shoulders after she unfastened the single gold button on the front of her navy blazer. She had come dressed in appropriate work attire – the blazer, a sober white button down, grey pants and black, heeled boots. If looking the part in any way mattered, she was already halfway home.

Gates leaned forward, resting her forearms against the blotter on top of her desk. She removed her glasses and set them aside along with the open file she had quickly closed. " _So_ …you've decided to come back to us? To what do we owe this honor, Detective? Maine not up to your standards? Did they run out of lobster rolls?"

Kate took these jibes with a mask of impassivity firmly slipped in place. Beneath her unreadable exterior, she felt jumpy, anxious to get on with other, more important things than having her cage rattled and a little sarcastic fun poked in her direction. But she'd take it. She'd wait her boss out in the hopes of getting a bigger win if the woman agreed to take her back onto the squad.

"I took the time I said I would. I evaluated my options and came to the conclusion that my work here was too important to give up. At least not yet."

"I see," Gates replied tightly, her tone decidedly skeptical.

"Yes, Sir."

"So…Mr. Castle running up there after you wouldn't have anything to do with you deciding to come home to New York?"

Kate bit the inside of her cheek in a desperate effort to prevent her face from coloring and giving anything away. This line of questioning would never have occurred to her had someone suggested she prepare for the potential scope of today's meeting.

"I—" She frowned when she stammered, wracking her brain for some smart retort that wouldn't leave her looking like a lovesick schoolgirl or a homicide detective amid a crisis, who no longer knew her own mind. She decided on flattery, when all else failed to inspire. "You're remarkably well-informed, sir."

Gates nodded. "I make it my job to know everything, Detective Beckett. You should know that by now."

Kate mirrored Gates' nod, a false show of contrition, while she boiled inside. "As I said, I feel that my work here isn't done. My team and I—"

"Your team has been operating quite effectively without you. Indeed one might say that, minus the distraction your pet writer brings to this precinct, their work rate has even gone up."

"Is that so?" Kate muttered, through gritted teeth.

Gate took this moment to sit back in her seat, bouncing against the spring action, obviously enjoying the power she was wielding. She tapped the tips of her fingers on the arms of the chair. "However…" she announced, expansively, dragging out the drama.

 _Yes, here we go,_ thought Kate. Crossing her fingers.

"However, sir?"

"I am still a team member down. Human resources are short-handed. The vacancy within our homicide unit caused by your unplanned departure has yet to be posted internally, as luck would have it."

"Will I have to reapply?" Kate asked, trying not to look too eager.

"I think that would be a waste of everyone's time. However, I do expect you to make a firm commitment to this job, Detective. If I agree to have you back. Whatever… _personal_ issues you and Mr. Castle might have…" She stared intently at Kate, unflinching. "Do _not_ bring them into my house. Do you understand?"

Kate nodded rapidly. "Of course, sir. Thank you, sir."

"If you are one hundred percent certain about your commitment to the Twelfth, I will file the appropriate paperwork. Give me a couple of days to set things straight with the bean counters upstairs."

Kate rose from her chair, flooded with relief that her first act as a reinstated team member wouldn't have to be asking her boss for more time off to sort out her aforementioned personal issues.

"In the meantime…" Gates' words froze her in the act of replacing the guest chair to its original spot.

"Sir?"

"Sort out this mess with your sidekick once and for all. I can't have him coming back here with that ugly gray cloud hanging over his head. If we're going to have a team mascot, I'd rather he was a happy clown than a sad one. Understand?"

Despite being irked by the use of the term 'clown' to refer to her partner, Kate opted to ignore the insult for the greater good. "I'll fix it. It won't be an issue."

"Make sure that it isn't."

Kate turned for the door with a smile on her face.

"Oh, and Beckett?"

 _Shit!_

"Yes, sir?"

"For goodness sake put the poor man out of his misery and tell him how you feel."

* * *

When Alexis opened the door to the loft, Kate's curled up hand was left hanging midair mid-knock with nowhere to go.

"Detective Beckett?" the girl exclaimed, surprise she had no time to hide written in the wide blue of her eyes and the arching 'o' of her mouth.

Kate awkwardly lowered her hand. "Alexis, hi. How are you?"

"On my way out," came the stiff reply.

Kate nodded, contrite for the second time in little more than an hour. Humble pie might end up being a new food group if she didn't get her life in order soon. "So I see," she conceded, spotting the heavy backpack the girl was hoisting onto her shoulder.

Alexis seemed to read the skepticism in Kate's face. "Really. I'm meeting a friend. We're going to a festival…upstate. Staying over for a couple of days."

Kate smiled, grateful for this extra information, for the words and the little time the girl was sparing her. She could so easily have flounced out without a word given the trouble Kate had caused between Alexis and her father lately. "Sounds like fun. Be careful, won't you? Don't accept food or drinks or—"

Alexis looked at her feet, her demeanor that of any teen waiting out a parental warning they were certain they were too old and too street smart to require. "Yeah, dad already…" She trailed off, flashing Kate a quick smile to soften the curt edge to her dismissive manner.

"Sorry. Of course he has." Kate shrugged, embarrassed by her own overstep. "Cop thinking," she explained. "Everyone's a bad guy until proven otherwise. Hard to shake off."

"I'm sure," Alexis said dryly.

A beat or two of awkward silence passed between them, so many difficult things unsaid, before Alexis turned her head away.

"Dad! Beckett is here," she yelled over her shoulder into the empty cavern of the loft. "He's in his study…sulking, no doubt."

"Sulking?" Kate asked, her frown back in place.

"Let's just say Maine didn't live up to expectations as a romantic vacation spot."

Kate toed the floor. "Right. I see."

"Do you though?" Alexis asked with a sudden flash of anger.

For once Kate faced a demand of this nature head on. She would have to start sometime, might as well be now. "Actually, yes. I do. That's why I'm here. To fix this once and for all."

"Yeah, well he promised me the same thing before he left. Didn't turn out that way though."

"I don't understand. What didn't turn out…"

"He told me that he'd fix things between you or walk away for good. He promised. And now he's back and nothing's changed. He's still pining and you're—"

Kate risked reaching out to lay a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Alexis, I'm so sorry."

"Don't tell me. Tell _him._ Look, I really have to go," she muttered, shrugging Kate's hand off and brushing past her to head out into the hallway towards the elevator.

Left alone on the threshold, at the open front door to the loft, there were only two options – either go on inside and have things out or flee.

* * *

"Castle? Castle, you there?" Kate called out as she walked across the living room floor with her throat closing tight as a tourniquet.

When there was no audible reply, she proceeded to the door of the study. She tapped on the frame a couple of times and then risked poking her head inside. Castle's office chair, a large leather number, was turned away from the desk and towards the window. She could just make out the top of his head above the leather padding of the headrest. A well-cut crown of silky dark hair that she longed to reach out and ruffle, and would in time if she could make things different between them. She focused on this goal as she took a fortifying breath. They had a lot to fight through to get to that point, but the fact that they kept fighting she hoped was a sturdy sign that they might make it in the end.

"Castle, I know you're in there. I can see you. Can we talk?"

Finally, like a scene out of a Bond movie, the leather chair swiveled to face her. Castle sat slumped low down on the cushions, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was wearing a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, dark jeans and thick grey socks. He cast a somber image in the colorless gloom.

"Beckett, what do you want?"

She bit her lip, felt her eyebrows flicker upwards of their own accord. Suddenly Alexis looked like the welcoming committee. This was going to be harder than she thought. "Alexis let me in."

"And?"

"And I think we need to talk. Don't you?"

"What happened to don't follow me, Castle? Leave me alone, Castle. How dare you ruin my life—"

"I've never said you ruined my life."

"Oh, no?"

"No. That would be a lie."

Castle smiled, something she couldn't place in his expression. "And you're above lying. Is that what you're saying?"

Kate swallowed. The other shoe was dangling from that cosmic big toe. She could see it, about to drop. "Could we sit? Maybe out there?" She suggested, jerking her head back towards the far more open space of the living room. The study felt too small for this, too confining. All these elephants in the room, their looming grayness like that of her partner's mood and clothing, threatening to trample their lives to dust.

"Be my guest. Please." He waved his hand expansively towards a small leather couch. "Take a seat. Far cozier in here, don't you think?"

Without the home field advantage, Kate felt she could do nothing but as Castle had asked. The author lounged in his office chair the way Gates had lounged behind her desk; bouncing slightly, in control. But there was one difference between the two – it was in the sadness behind Castle's eyes, the stiffness in his jaw, the offhand attitude he was summoning; one that bordered on belligerence - all spoke to the hopelessness he seemed to be feeling. Alexis' claims of pining and sulking had given her a heads up, but face-to-face with him like this, no advance warning had been needed. His dejection was self-evident, floating on the surface like oil over water.

* * *

Where to begin now that she was seated on the leather couch beneath the window of Castle's study? You can't just jump from denials and anger, from pushing away and blatant animosity to ' _I've loved you for a very long time and that scares me to death.'_

Can you?

Castle made the decision for her. "I made a promise to Alexis before I left for Maine to—"

Kate cut in before he could enact that promise to his daughter – the promise to end this once and for all – and she did it in the only way she knew how: she engaged him in an argument.

"How _could_ you?"

Castle looked put off his stride at least, and he stuttered to a pause. "I…I'm sorry. How could I what?"

"I overheard you. At the precinct yesterday. Missing Alexis' graduation so that you could come after me. What in hell were you thinking?"

"That's not the full story."

"It never is with you."

He sank back in his chair. "Is this all we're ever going to do now?"

"What?"

"Fight with one another? Because if it is, I'm tired of it, Kate. I argued with Meredith and then I argued with Gina and those were some of the most miserable years of my life. I'm not doing that again."

That he was comparing her to his two ex-wives, bizarrely, was an improvement on recent form.

So she kicked off her shoes, tucked her legs under her on the couch and grabbed a pillow; all gestures meant to indicate that she wouldn't be running away this time. "Tell me the full story. How did you come to be in Maine and what exactly did you miss?"

* * *

His sad tale tumbled out in fits and starts, a depressing little array of details that jumped back and forth in time to fill in gaps, to add to understanding, a final attempt to explain. Eventually, he came to the crux of everything that had unfolded after he had visited the precinct and discovered that Kate had packed up and left town.

"I was supposed to video her speech that day." He leant forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his knees while he stared at the floor. "But you know how it is. These things go on so long, and then my cell phone rang and I stepped out because it was the travel agent calling to confirm my flight to Portland. When I came back in—" He swiped a hand down over his eyes. "Kate, I swear I was only gone for a couple of minutes tops…"

"Rick," she lamented, her voice a barely audible whisper. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes.

Castle nodded, sorrowful and ashamed. "She was already at the podium, halfway through her valedictory speech. I couldn't start recording it then. So I just…I missed the whole thing."

"I'm sure she was amazing," Kate offered in scant consolation, the man in front of her too wrecked by his own actions to scold.

"She was. She was...impressive."

He closed his eyes and then rubbed his hands down over his face.

"Castle, talk to me?"

"Her speech."

"What about it?"

Castle swiveled in his chair, reaching behind to lift a sheet of paper from the desk. He handed the well-handled document to Kate, inky thumbprints bordering the page on both sides where he'd clearly lifted and laid it more than a few times in recent days. He watched her for a few seconds as she began to read the double-spaced text printed there.

"When I listened to her talk about endings and goodbyes in that hall with all those people hanging on every word... About life moving on, all I could think about was you. That you were my solid ground, my north star, and now you were gone. So when she bounded down off that stage at her moment of triumph, I'm afraid I wasn't as jovial and excited as I should have been. My mind was already halfway to Maine, trying to figure out how on earth I was going to find you and persuade you to come home. I let her down badly that day. I was so distracted it was almost as if I wasn't even there."

Kate stared at the typed speech, tears threatening when her eyes alighted on the final, closing word: A _lways_. Her throat was painfully tight. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.

Castle lifted his head to stare at her. They held one another's gaze for what seemed like a very long time. "How about you let me decide for once?"

She handed him the speech and then looked away, out the window, across the streets of SoHo. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded. "Anything."

"Before you started following Slaughter—"

Castle groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Kate—"

"Please. We can drop it but I need to understand what happened? I thought we were getting closer and then..."

"So did I."

Kate shook her head from side to side, tiny movements of confusion. "So...what? What did I do?"

"Do you remember me visiting you in the hospital?"

She felt her skin prickle. "That was a long time ago."

" _Do. You. Remember?_ " he pressed.

"Of course. You brought me flowers."

"And do you recall me asking if you remembered me tackling you?"

Kate's eyes slipped from his face, skidding down and to the right until her gaze rested on the floor, staring at nothing.

"Let me remind you. You said some things were better not being—"

"I know what I said," she admitted, her jaw tight, fear creeping up her spine and making her hair stand on end. "I know."

"That wasn't the truth, though, was it?"

She couldn't look at him. "How did you know?"

"You told me yourself."

"Wh—?" She shook her head, risked looked at his face this time, frowning and confused. "I don't understand."

"Bobby Lopez."

Kate shrugged.

"You don't remember that either?"

"What are you…what does Bobby Lopez have to do with anything?"

"I was behind the glass that day, Beckett. Watching you interrogate him."

Her face opened with the sudden realization, like a Japanese puzzle box, the lacquered lid released with just the right pressure here and there to unlock its secrets. "You left me coffee," she said to herself, the memory dawning slowly. "That was you?"

"You can't possibly…" Castle watched the frown on her face dissipate, doubt and confusion becoming something hot, like embarrassment and maybe shame.

"Castle."

"Are you honestly trying to tell me…" He scrubbed both hands down over his tired face once more.

"What?"

"Kate, you're a _detective._ A _good_ detective. You're really claiming that you never put two and two together, aren't you?"

" _That's_ why you shut me out? That's why you broke up our partnership. My interview with Bobby Lopez?"

"What did you expect me to do? You lied to me. More than once."

She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated with herself as much as anyone. "Ask me about it. I expect you to _ask_ me, Castle. Put me on the spot. Call me on my bullshit. _Anything_ but jump to conclusions and then break my heart."

The air in the room went still. Terrifying silence that seemed as loud as any yelling, while they just sat there and stared one another out, dust like glitter, caught in the sunlight, spiralling upwards.

Eventually, Castle spoke up first. "I broke _your_ heart? Oh, that is just—" His eyes widened, disbelief and ugly sarcasm coating his voice when he shot to his feet sending his chair rolling backwards into the wall behind. "Actually, I have no words for what that is. Nothing sanitary, anyway."

He turned away from her, paced to the door of the study, gripping the frame as if for balance. "I need a drink," he muttered, before disappearing out into the living room, leaving her stunned and alone.


	15. Chapter 15

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 15_

Kate slumped back against the leather couch cushions the second Castle disappeared out into the living room. She felt the dragging weight of exhaustion but, inside, also a strange fizzing sensation. Energy, like a live hum, driven by all that she and Castle had just revealed to one another, sang through her system. Her heart was racing, her fingers fidgety in her lap. She was his _solid ground?_ He had put her ahead of his daughter's happiness to try and fix things between them when he realized how far he'd pushed her away. Not that she wants Castle choosing her over Alexis at all. And she just told him that he broke her heart when he walked away. By the sound of things she broke his too when he figured out that she had lied about hearing him the day she was shot. What a mess they have unwittingly contrived to make of everything.

The sofa felt too confining after five or so minutes had passed without any sign of Castle's return. So she got up, slipped her shoes back on and began to prowl the boundary walls of the study, staring at shelves, lifting and laying books. Restless. What could she say now? What would _he_ say? How to lay their issues out in front of them, calmly, and not turn this back into some kind of blame game? How to just make this be about why neither of them is able to walk away for good, no matter how hard things get? She has no clue.

When she paused by the window to stare over at the building opposite, she spotted an old man and a wispy, white-haired woman dancing together. They turned around the wooden floor like clockwork dolls, her cheek on his shoulder, their joined hands cradled over the old man's heart, moving to music Kate could only imagine. The scene caused a welling of mixed feeling within her. She thought about her own mom and dad, who would never grow old together, who would never have the chance to dance like that. And then she let her mind drift towards her own future. What did she want from life now? How did she see her own end of days – alone, still fiercely independent, with no brave or stupid words echoing in her head, only regrets? What was she so afraid of, if she pushed them both for the openness that they have evaded all these years? What damage could Richard Castle do to her that she wasn't already doing to herself?

* * *

She turned away from the window at the sound of tinkling glass to find Castle reentering the study carrying a bottle of red wine and two balloon-shaped goblets.

"Was beginning to think I'd have to come find you," she quipped, attempting to restart this discussion on a light and friendly note.

Castle frowned, tension in the ropelike muscles of his neck and shoulders. "I just needed a moment. I'm sorry if I was abrupt before. I hope red's okay?" he added, waiting for her nod before he poured them both a glass.

Kate took the goblet from him, allowing her fingers to cover his for a change, with no rush to pull away. She watched his face as she did so, observing the stiffening in his posture, the flint that sparked in his eyes at her light touch, and the undertone of fear he wore as he held himself apart from her as quickly as possible.

Before Bobby Lopez, they had been a million miles closer than this. They had been at ease around one another, touching a secret, unspoken pleasure they both sought out, no longer a breach of boundaries to be avoided. She missed that unthinking closeness as much a she hated herself for causing it to disappear. As Castle settled back in his office chair and she sank, weak-kneed to the couch, she opened her mouth and started to talk without censoring her thoughts or feelings for once.

"Castle, I feel as if there's this…gulf between us." She paused, waiting for her partner to look at her. When he didn't, she carried on anyway. "I don't know how to get over that."

Castle swirled the ruby red Merlot around his glass, staring at the wine's ripe orbital path before he lifted it a little higher in a silent toasting gesture, and then took a mouthful.

Kate briefly met his toast, sipping too, though her heart was heavy and the wine only imbued her tongue with a bitter tang. "We were so close before…before the whole Bobby Lopez/Slaughter fiasco. I—" She took a breath, regrouped. "That wall I'd built up after my mom died? It was coming down, Castle. I don't want to feel like that wall is now standing between _us._ " Her partner remained absorbed by the beauty of his wine. He wouldn't look at her. "Castle, help me out?"

"Why did you lie? At the hospital," he clarified, still without looking at her. "Why did you lie?"

Kate pursed her lips and then she set her glass aside. "Honestly? I didn't know what to say. It's not like I planned it that way. I was a mess…recovering from major surgery. In so much pain. And the medication..." she shrugged.

Castle nodded to show that he was listening and then he arched his eyebrows as a sign for her to continue.

"I was supposed to be with Josh." She gave a one-shouldered gesture of despair. "There was that complication too. And we were… _over_ ," she said hollowly, recalling their fight at her apartment the night before Montgomery was murdered. "The timing couldn't have been worse, Castle. I didn't know what to say. How to answer you at first."

"And later?" he asked, his voice a low, broken growl of emotion as they pawed back over the debris of that terrible time in their lives.

She ran a hand through her hair and then looked at him. "Ever been caught in a lie? Actually, no." She held up a hand to absolve him from having to answer. "Of course you haven't. You're too good, too...straightforward to lie."

If she'd been watching him at that point, Kate would have noticed her partner's gaze flicker upward until it settled on the darkened flatscreen above his desk. Flick one switch and the question of whether Richard Castle was a capable liar would be answered at a stroke.

Did it still make it a lie if you did it for the right reasons, he mused in that moment, recalling the shady details he was keeping to himself to protect Kate from harm? Was it a lie if your intentions were good?

Castle sighed, and set his glass down on the desk. He scrubbed one hand over his mouth. "Did Josh go with you to your dad's cabin?" he asked, revealing the hurt that still lingered from that time when she decided to lock him out of her life, no matter the distance between then and now.

Kate sipped her wine and then shook her head. "No. We were over by then. Seeing you at the hospital was hard, Castle. You don't know how hard that was on me."

"So why didn't you call like you promised?"

"I couldn't lift my arms. I needed help going to the bathroom, dressing, feeding myself. That's not how you start something new."

"We weren't starting from scratch, Kate."

"Maybe not from nothing, but there were a lot of things we'd never even talked about. I mean what do we really know about one another, hmm? I don't even know your favorite color, and yet here you are wanting me to make all these major life decisions when I couldn't look after myself. Thinking we were gonna what? Forget Josh existed and settle down together. Live happily ever after? Like that was ever gonna happen, the mess I was back then."

"Well, it won't with an attitude like that," he snapped, though a big part of him could see that she had a point. It still hurt to be told no.

"Castle, I was an _invalid._ It hurt to _breathe._ And I had a target on my back."

"You were the woman I loved. My partner, Kate. I would have done anything—" He broke off as his voice rose, took a second to calm down, release his anger. "That's all I saw when I came into that hospital room. Nothing else mattered once I saw you alive."

"I'm proud. It's a failing, I know. And even on a good day I like my privacy. There was no way our first intimacy was gonna be you helping me to the toilet. No way. I sent my dad home as soon as I could cope on my own. Don't punish me for those choices. I didn't have many at that point. But they were mine to make, and I'd make them again. Maybe not for so long, and maybe not to totally shut myself off." Kate's face softened as she continued. "I missed you every day. You have to believe that. But that was no way for us to move from being partners and friends to something more when _more_ meant you became my carer. Do you understand?"

Castle nodded solemnly and then he picked up his glass and surprised Kate by moving from his desk to sit next to her on the sofa. He rested his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes for a few seconds, legs stretched out in front of him, his shoulder touching hers. "My favorite color is blue by the way. My favorite color on _you_ is purple." He turned his head to give her a half-smile. "I know all the important things, Kate. Like how you take your coffee. I know you like your burgers with that cheap plastic cheese on top instead of some fancy French or English import."

Kate smiled at the truce he was offering and joined in the game. "I know you love sci-fi and Halloween and that you'd make Christmas a permanent state of being, if you could. And yet I don't know what brand of toothpaste you use or which side of the bed you sleep on or even whether you believe in God."

"The detail doesn't matter."

"But we've known each other for four years, Castle. Sometimes I misread you and I feel as if I've picked up on so little."

He shrugged off her doubts. "So we still have lots to learn. That's the fun part. If we'd met on a dating website or through friends or you'd picked me up in a bar—"

Kate let out a peel of surprised laughter. "Oh, I'd pick _you_ up?"

"Of course."

"Smug," she fired back, bumping her shoulder against his.

"Maybe just a little. My point is, we'd still know a whole lot more about one another than most people ever do going into a relationship. Unless they're childhood friends who met in kindergarten. But then that's just creepy." He wrinkled his nose and shivered, swivelling his head to flash her another dopey grin.

Kate was laughing for what seemed like the first time in forever. "It feels so good to just be like this," she admitted aloud. "We've wasted so much time."

"Kate…we were both at fault in our own way. We've both been cowards a number of times when it counted. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions and didn't just flat out ask about what I overheard."

"I'm sorry I lied. That was possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done." Then she whacked him in the arm, surprising him. "But, Castle, how could you believe I didn't love you back?"

He looked winded by this big statement rolled into a question. But she looked amused when she lobbed it his way, so he bounced his reply over the net with the same amount of levity. "Maybe use your words next time, Beckett?"

Kate chuckled and linked her arm with his, eventually allowing her head to drop onto his shoulder. "I was going to kiss you," she confessed.

Castle sat up sharply, dislodging her. " _When?_ " But she pulled him back down and resettled against him.

"In the bank. After the explosion. When I found you in that vault, I was going to kiss you."

"So why didn't you?" he whined, stroking the underside of her wrist with his thumb.

Kate cringed. "Your mother."

Castle groaned and slapped a hand against his forehead. "I'll kill her."

* * *

A comfortable, contemplative silence descended on the room, time they both took to think.

Kate was the one to break it. "Are we…" She paused and bit her lip.

"Hey, what is it? Talk to me."

"Are we overthinking this?"

"Overthinking?"

"Yeah, have we let ourselves get caught up in some big drama when we really need to get back to basics?"

A storm cloud passed over Castle's face, dimming the playful light in his eyes. "You hurt me, Kate. That was real."

She let out a sigh. "I know and I'm sorry. And when you left to run with Slaughter, I felt betrayed too. The point is…I didn't _mean_ to hurt you. Was I selfish? Yes. And scared. I wanted this special thing we have to be perfect. Perfect timing, perfect everything, if I was going to give up what we had before to risk something more. But nothing about our timing has ever been perfect."

"Until now."

"How do you figure that? We've spent most of the last week and a half fighting."

"I mean right now. This moment. We're both here… _alone._ It's quiet. We have a good bottle of wine. Alexis is off at some music festival for the next couple of days…"

"And your mother?"

Castle wafted his hand in an airy manner that perfectly conjured up the swaggering dramatics of Martha Rodgers. "Out there…somewhere. I think there's a new man. I'm too afraid to ask."

"You mean because she'll give you details?" Kate smirked.

"Ah, I see you and my mother are well acquainted," he hammed up to make Kate laugh. "Yes, _all_ the gory details."

It was like watching someone thaw out. One minute he was cold and hard as a block of ice, the next he was chattering and letting himself touch her, allowing all of his natural warmth and affection to shine through.

His natural exuberance, his drive to always persuade her of his point of view, made her smile. But then he sat bolt upright again and turned to face her, a startled look of concern creasing his brow.

"Weren't you seeing Gates today?"

Kate nodded, smiling as she tugged on his shoulder to get him to settle back down beside her again. "Relax. I saw her this morning before I came over here."

" _And?_ Are you fired?"

"No," Kate scoffed.

"Am _I_ fired?"

"Not even close."

"Seriously?"

"I wouldn't joke about that." She nudged him, playfully. "We're a package deal."

"What'd she say?" he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Actually, she told me to sort out my problems with you before I come back. Put the poor man out of his misery, I believe were her exact words."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" He slapped his thigh in delight. "I _knew_ she liked me."

Kate laughed. "So here I am. Trying to do just that." She took his glass and set it down beside her own, swiveling on the sofa until she could see his face and her knee was pressed up against his thigh. "If you'll let me?"

"Kate," Castle murmured, taking hold of her hands, his voice constricted by so much emotion.

"Can we get back to how things were before?"

"You mean before you were shot or before—"

"Before I made such a mess of things," she assured him.

"You really wanted to kiss me in the bank?" he grinned, eyes dancing once more.

Kate reacted to this mental gymnastics by dropping her head until it hit his shoulder, laughing into his shirt as he caught her. His hands briefly palmed her arms and then they slid around her back, gently lowering her until she was cradled against his chest. It felt like a hug from heaven.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you that day," she told him, spilling long-withheld secrets as she slipped her own arms around his waist and held on. "I thought I'd lost you. When that C-4 blew…"

Castle pressed his lips to the top of her head. "We've had too many close calls to count, you and me."

"But we're still here," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his shirt, reveling in the comforting rhythm of his heart.

Castle stroked his hand up and down her spine, the weight and the warmth soothing enough to induce a light doze as the stress they'd both been under ebbed away.

After a few moments of quiet drifting, Kate embraced him tighter, kissed his shirt over his heart and then eased up just a little way so that she could press a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. "Can I stay?" she asked, stunning him with her request. "If…if that's okay with you? I mean, we don't have to—"

She cupped his jaw with one hand, her fingers slipping behind his ear, her thumb stroking its silky lobe.

"You mean…"

She nodded and smiled. "We could order in. Talk some more. I know today doesn't fix everything. I just…" She broke off with a frown and downcast eyes, withdrawing her hands from his face to lay them flat against his chest.

Castle titled her chin up until she met his eyes. "Tell me, Kate."

"I need more time with you."

* * *

 _A/N: I came across this old quote recently, where Stana Katic talks about the character of Kate Beckett. The point that stuck with me, and it's something that often seems to enrage some readers, but it is an unavoidable truth if you're being true to Beckett's character when you create a story: "I'm playing a character who never said she's sorry." - SK._

 _That's a part of who she is. We all have flaws, and this is one of hers. As much as it probably allowed her to become the strong, unapologetic woman that Castle fell in love with, sometimes her self-focus and her stubbornness are her downfall. Just something to think about._

 _Full quotation - "As girls, we're kind of taught to say 'I'm sorry' all the time. It's like you walk through the door, and you're automatically saying, 'Sorry! Sorry. Did I step on you? I'm sorry. Did I… Did I breathe? Oh my- I'm so sorry'. I'm playing a character who never said she's sorry. There's something beautiful in the weathered, unapologetic stories; I love those people… They've got a few scars, and they've earned it. They've lived their lives." — Stana Katic (on the Morning Jolt - October 7, 2013)_


	16. Chapter 16

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 16_

* * *

What does it feel like to be offered something you've wanted for so long? Does the struggle to get it make it mean more or less? Does the cost of the battle sully the victory? Is winning a let down?

Castle excused himself to go and get his cell phone and he lingered at the kitchen island pondering all of these thorny questions. How did he feel? He returned with a small selection of takeout menus before his absence could be remarked upon or misinterpreted, his mind ablaze but far from clear.

After laying the menus in her lap, he withdrew to the opposite wall. "You choose. I'm just gonna—" He thumbed over his shoulder to indicate the room next door, the room where she knew his bedroom lay.

Kate lifted her eyebrows, a question.

"Bathroom," he admitted, with a nervous smile.

"Oh, yes. Of course." She waved her hand. "Go. Wouldn't want you to have an accident. That would be embarrassing." She laughed, equally nervous, and he lingered for a second or two just to watch her, studying menus and smiling to herself, her hair falling almost into her eyes.

When Castle returned a couple of minutes later, the air drying any remaining moisture on his hands, Kate was standing by the window, hip kicked out, one arm curled around her waist, her cell phone in the other hand where it rested against her ear. She turned at the sound of Castle's footsteps, gave him a nod and a smile. "Yeah, just as soon as it's ready would be great. 425 Broome. R. Castle, yep. Thank you."

"So…" Castle asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Kate looked a little sheepish. "Couldn't decide. And since you left it in my hands…" she grinned when she held up one of the takeout menus. "I used my detective skills."

"You got pizza?" Castle nodded approvingly.

"Did I get it right?"

"Not a test, Kate," he said, coming closer. He took the menus out of her hand and set them aside and then he rested his hands on her shoulders.

Kate looked up at him, and when he didn't move, she tentatively placed her hands on his hips. They stood toe-to-toe in heavy silence, eyes warily searching each other's faces.

"We have a lot of healing to do."

"I just want you to trust me," she admitted, feeling small for asking but brave and honest too.

Castle's heart palpitated, a guilt-induced atrial flutter. Trust: a two-way street. He rubbed his thumbs over the curve of her shoulder joints and drew a deep breath as he dragged his eyes off the darkened screen above her head to meet her eyes. "It'll come back," he promised, surprising her with this unusual reserve, since she had expected him to assure her wholeheartedly as he would have done by pure reflex in the past. "Just might take a little time," he added, leaning in and down to kiss her forehead.

Kate bit her lip, realizing with a pang that this was the consequence. You hurt people, even those who love you, and there is a price to pay. He's not her parent. His love is not unconditional, neither should it be. She's an adult amongst adults for starters. You can ask for forgiveness, but even if that forgiveness is granted, healing will still take time. "I understand," she whispered, trying to quash her disappointment.

"I'm not punishing you, Kate. I hope you know that?" he checked, standing straight again to see her face.

She nodded. "I know," she answered lightly, giving his sides a quick squeeze with her fingers before she dropped her hands and turned away, easing out of his grasp.

She cleared her throat. "You wanna eat in here?" The silence was awkward. "We should get napkins."

Castle shrugged. "I'm good with that if you are. We can talk…or watch a movie."

This was harder than either of them had ever imagined. There was no moment of romantic drama to throw them into one another's arms and send them tumbling into bed. There had just been months of waiting and wondering, days of fighting, and a couple of hours of honesty and contrition, all of which had proved a real mood killer. Castle was right - this would all take time to resolve. Because the moment lacked energy, and it set her thinking about all the other moments they had allowed to get away from them. All the failed opportunities, all the interruptions they had permitted to happen, intimate moments they could have snatched back for themselves had they only had the courage to speak out at the time. This terrifying, sickening limbo was the price.

Kate looked around the room to hide her disappointment. "Plates maybe? Don't want to mess this place up with greasy pizza boxes."

"I am _so_ hungry. You chose well, partner," Castle said, attempting to make light for both their sakes.

"Told you." She tapped her nose. "Detective skills. Picked the most used menu from the stack. You guys _love_ your pizza."

"That we do," murmured Castle, giving her a half-hearted smile that slipped as he looked past her, out the window into SoHo where the sky blazed with the sliding tackle of a late summer's day.

Kate opened her mouth to say something, anything that might make things easier. Another apology maybe, some promise she might make, her desperation to fix this clawing at her insides with an urgency that left her too restless to settle. She was saved from coming up with anything concrete by the sound of the front door buzzer.

 _Hello universe._

"I'll get the napkins and plates," she offered, following Castle out into the main living space of the loft.

She watched him cross the ground floor in his grey woolen socks and dark jeans to the electric purr of the central air. He fished his wallet out of his back pocket, the space it occupied a worn, molded shape that remained whether the leather billfold was there or not. This man felt like that to her now, she realized. A Castle-shaped spaced carved out in her life, whether he was with her or not. It was a shape he could slot back into, and had done many times before, after long and short periods of absence. Summers spent apart, different life-partners for each of them at times, her three-month recovery Upstate, a near-disastrous flight to Maine; he'd slipped back into that space with just a little effort every time. As if they belonged together. Gun and holster or like the moon fits perfectly over the sun, eclipsing everything but how she needs this good man in her life. How much better he makes her. How much happier.

She busied herself while he paid the delivery guy, bantering good-naturedly about the young man's girlfriend. "You really _do_ like pizza," she said, lifting the plates and kitchen towel off the counter and following him back to the study once the door was closed and the smell of warm cheese filling the air.

Castle shrugged. "He's a good kid. And you know me, can't resist a juicy story."

"And…?"

"What?"

"Well, is there one?"

"You mean Matteo?"

"If that's his name, yeah."

Castle hesitated for a second, clearly finding it hard to shrug off the solemnity that had befallen him today. Kate wanted to tell him that everything was good now. That his feelings were reciprocated, that the wait was over, but when she played around with the words in her head her message of reassurance came out sounding sterile and arrogant, like some dreadful emotionless checklist.

Finally, Castle smiled. He put down the pizza box and grabbed a couple of pillows off the sofa, throwing them to the floor. "Okay," he began, eyes twinkling with the anticipation of spinning a yarn for her, a favorite pastime. "They met at a soap-making workshop in Nolita. She's a beauty therapist. Works in the day spa across the street. He's just this guy delivering pizza. Or so we all think."

Kate smiled, drawn in. "And…he's what? Like a spy or something?"

"No. But close, Detective."

Kate frowned as she tore off perforated sheets of kitchen towel and folded them into makeshift napkins. "What's close to being a spy but isn't an actual spy?"

Castle laughed as he flipped the lid on the enormous pizza box, greedily inhaling the scent that wafted up to perfume his study. "That sounds like something I would say."

Kate clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, God. It does," she cringed.

"Don't let the boys hear you talking like that."

Kate shrugged and sank down to sit on one of the outsized cushions. "They already think I'm a lost cause."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

Castle sat down on a cushion beside her. "Come on, Beckett. I sense a story in that throwaway line."

"Not until you finish telling your story."

"Ah, not above a little blackmail? I like it."

"So, if young Matteo is not a spy. What's the next best thing?" she mused.

Castle took a deep breath and then paused, the effect like a soundless drum roll. "He's studying forensics at John Jay College."

Kate slowly looked up from her slice of pizza, lips glistening with grease. "You think a _degree_ in forensics is the same as being a spy? Castle, James _Bond_ is a spy. Most crime scene techs I've met would run a _mile_ if a perp yelled boo!"

Castle flapped his hand dismissively. "Okay, so I might have exaggerated it a little in my head."

"A little? And just what have you parlayed his good lady into? A supermodel?"

"Very droll, Beckett. Anyway, moral of the story: never underestimate the pizza guy. Okay, so now your turn."

Kate picked a slice of pepperoni off her pizza. "My turn for what?"

"Why do Ryan and Espo think you're a lost cause? No ducking."

Kate took another bite of pizza and chewed it slowly, delaying the inevitable. She put her slice back down and wiped her fingers and dabbed at her mouth with the paper napkin. "They knew why I left and they know why I came back." She shrugged, reaching for her wine. "Even when I tried to move on…kinda failed," she said, sheepish in her admission.

"Or…you could say that you came back to tough things out. Which would be brave…admirable even."

Kate looked up sharply, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Is that what you think?"

Castle shied away from committing, toying with a stringy piece of mozzarella to avoid seeing the look on his partner's face. "Doesn't matter what I think."

Kate sat up straighter, her hand on the floor between them, just shy of reaching out for him. "Are you kidding me? Your opinion is the _only_ one that matters here, Castle. The only one."

His lashes flickered. "My opinion didn't matter in Portland. Your aunt was the only woman in Maine who believed I had your best interests at heart."

Kate sighed. "Rick, you know me. Probably better than anyone," she conceded. "I was hurting badly enough to leave New York. I've explained why. It took a lot to walk away. I _listed_ my place. And then you show up and it's as if your entire argument was built around undermining my choices."

"I never meant to do that."

"I'm stubborn. You know that by now. Tell me what to do and I want to do the exact opposite. I'm headstrong. I've always been independent and I hate admitting when I'm wrong."

A faint smiled flickered across Castle's face, catching Kate by surprise.

She poked his thigh with her bare toes. "Real catch, right?" she laughed. "That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Castle brushed imaginary crumbs off his lap. "Beckett, you've always been a catch. That's not the problem."

Kate's smile faded and she nodded, bracing for the worst. "The price got too high, didn't it?"

"I wanted the fairytale," Castle said, surprising her again by continuing, when she assumed he'd shy away, brush her off. "But the more I longed for it, the more perfect and elaborate it became in my head…" He paused, dropped his gaze.

"What?"

"Sometimes I wonder if it's best some things remain in the realm of fantasy." He sounded defeated.

Kate felt panic rising in her throat, like mercury on a hot day. "Castle, we work. Everybody sees it."

He whipped his head around to look at her this time, accusatory. "So why couldn't you?"

Kate closed her eyes, digging as deep as she dared for a truth he might understand, something that might make a difference. She needed to smooth out this roller coaster ride they were on once and for all. "In broad daylight, they sent someone to kill me. I was being hunted to extinction. You understand that don't you? And it didn't end with my shooting at the cemetery. I still have a target on my back."

"Didn't stop you going to stay with Libby."

"Maine seemed far enough away. Anyway my point is that getting shot changed me. How could it not? Just imagine someone comes up to you in the street and…and they punch you in the face. How _long_ are you going to think about that? Violent act. Unprovoked. Totally random. Now imagine someone deliberately going to a funeral, crouching behind a headstone, calmly assembling a rifle and then stalking you like prey in the sunshine. How long do you think that sticks with you, hmm? When you wake up with a hole in your chest?"

Castle's face was ashen, serious. "I would have done anything to take your place."

Anger flared in Kate. "Castle, that's not your _job._ That's no one's job. I pushed, I poked around…I knew I was getting into some dark stuff. This isn't your fight. I die trying to expose my mother's killers and yes, it's terrible. But there's some symmetry there."

Castle's eyes blazed with fury in return, his fingers curled into fists. "There is _no_ symmetry, Beckett. In that scenario there's just bodies stacking up from the same family. And what about your dad? You think he believes your life is worth any answer you might turn up along the way? His wife will still be dead no matter the risks you take. And losing you could end up killing him too," he said in a thinly veiled reference to Jim Beckett's alcohol addiction. "Is that what you want?"

Kate bristled. "Of course not."

"So stop. Think for a moment. You said it yourself. There's still a target on your back. Let them think your shooting was a wake-up call. That you're walking away from the investigation. You let your life go back to normal and maybe…maybe they get a little sloppy down the line. Then you tighten the net. With evidence."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime you get on with living your life, Kate. It's what your mother would want above all else. I think you know that if you're honest with yourself."

"This has been my goal for all of my adult life. Getting justice for her."

"And you're scared you don't know what you'll do without that to drive you. I get that."

"I'm even more scared what might happen if I lose you."

"Then why do you hold me at arm's length? If this is how you really feel. Why push me away?"

"I want to say losing my mother. But it sounds like a poor excuse to blame a dead woman who did nothing but love me and love my dad and make me feel secure…like I could do anything I wanted with my life. But losing her didn't just become my obsession, it scarred me so much that I thought the only way to survive was to hold myself apart from other people."

Castle frowned. "Apart? What do you mean?"

"Growing up I felt so safe. Blissfully ignorant, really. The city was my home. The streets were just streets to me. Nothing scary lurked in the alley behind our building. The world I lived in contained evil and inequality, I knew that. I wasn't an idiot. But it never occurred to me that anything bad would ever happen to me or my family. And then it did. Just the worst thing imaginable. I knew I had to protect myself from that day on. If I didn't, if I let that loss in for even a second, the pain was unimaginable."

"What about your dad? Did you talk to him about how you felt?"

"After the funeral, he tried hard to make things normal. We ate dinner together. Mostly in silence but he tried. I could see that he was struggling. We both were. I didn't want to burden him with my issues when he already had enough of his own. When I went back to college…I think that's when things really fell apart for him. Alone in that empty apartment. Can't have been easy. I'd call even late at night to check in and he wasn't home. Or he'd fallen asleep with a bottle and couldn't get up to answer the phone."

"Kate—"

Her eyes shone. "I quit school and came home about a month or so later, after I got a call from an ER doc at St. Vincent's. He'd fallen on the front steps of our building and split his head open. A neighbor found him lying there an hour later and called 911. I got on that airplane in a daze."

Castle reached out to squeeze her hand. She looked down at it as if she had no idea what it was or why it was there.

"You were right about me hiding in nowhere relationships before. It was as if I left my heart behind in California. The second we landed at JFK I became this serious, practical person. My heart…" She broke off to swallow audibly, her throat painfully tight. "I walled it off and forgot about it," she added, hoarse as a whisper. "I got my dad some help, entered the Academy, toughened up…" She looked right at Castle's face, offering him a weak smile. "And the rest is history. Until now."

Castle got onto his knees and opened his arms for her. Kate eagerly fell into his embrace, hands clutching at his shirt, soaking in the warmth and power beneath as she crushed her cheek to his chest. It felt like finally finding home.


	17. Chapter 17

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 17_

Kate held her breath and listened. She could hear Castle breathing above her. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. She burrowed in deeper for a moment, clinging on with all she had to savor all she'd almost allowed to drift away. Actually, pushed away was more accurate. All her own fault.

"You okay?" Castle finally asked, easing back just a little to check on her. He cupped her elbow in his palm, the fingers of his other hand resting against the soft nape of her neck beneath the shiny curtain of hair. He couldn't let go.

Kate nodded, no words, not trusting her voice. The top of her head bumped his chin when he tightened his embrace around her again, dwarfing her with massive arms and hands that contained all the tiny pieces she was fighting to hold together.

"I've never told anyone that before," she admitted, her cheek still warmed by soft cotton and the comforting heat of the man holding her.

Castle could see her revelation for what it was because of who _he_ was – a good man, a stable, upbeat, generous individual, deeply perceptive and intelligent beneath the public veneer of humor and fun. He understood that this was Kate's gift to him. In lieu of the softness, the openness and all of the apologies she had failed to be able to give him in the past, this offering of her privacy, this exposure of her personal shame was her way of letting him in. And this was further than she'd allowed any man to go.

To change who you are for the better requires that you recognize your faults and flaws in the first place. To change also requires the desire and the purpose to do so, to feel that those around you are entitled to or deserve a different version of the you that you're used to being. Is everyone else perfect while you're the only flawed creation? Would the world change for you were you to ask? Should you therefore change for it? This was an intellectual struggle Kate had found herself waging with herself more and more, as time went on and peers and coworkers fell in love and settled down, while her own relationships waned and failed with crushing inevitability. Was the world demanding she change? Was that the price you had to pay for a happy life: buffed edges and a different you than the one on the inside?

The world had dealt Kate Beckett and her family the most terrible injustice. In response and to survive, Kate took her youthful, optimistic, liberal, free-thinking self and crafted a suit of armor from whatever she could find to protect her heart from future damage. Undoing all those years of guarded isolation had taken longer than she'd like, but she had finally found someone she wanted to allow beneath her skin. She wanted the love her parents shared. A love she had watched with pride and longing. She wanted that all along. But trying to ape their special relationship with a wall built around her heart was like trying to use chopsticks with both hands tied behind her back. She was doomed to failure from day one – with Tom, with Will, with Josh. Some part of her understood this, and so she kept Richard Castle at arm's length until she could figure a way out of the maze she'd built for herself.

Old habits die hard, they say. It took for Kate Beckett to be the one who almost died to light the fire that drove her to find help. In Dr. Burke she found the guidance she needed to make that change. Richard Castle would not be her savior, no one could. But he was her reason to try harder, just as she had become his.

* * *

He stroked her spine. "Thank you. Thank you for sharing that with me, Kate. I know it's not an easy thing to talk about. And I know you'd rather keep some things private. You're a private person. I haven't always respected that. I'm sorry."

Kate let her shoulders drop as she exhaled. "Well, too much privacy is…isolating. You end up with so many secrets and then you wake up one day and you can't remember why it seemed so vital that you kept them hidden."

"Agreed, but too little and you end up splashed over Page Six."

Kate embraced his levity, grateful for this effortless talent of his to smooth the way. She smiled to herself and nodded. "True."

She took a deep breath and eased herself to a sitting position. Castle let her go, waiting to see what might come next. They were sharing a cushion on his study floor, a half-eaten pizza on the table in front of them, a half-drunk bottle of wine alongside. At some point in the intervening period the sun had almost set. The room was charitably lit by the streetlights outside and the reflected glow from the buildings opposite. Their faces were in shadow and the darkness worked to cloak them.

Castle smoothed a hand down Kate's arm and began to rise from the floor. "All done with this?" he asked, as he rearranged the remaining slices in the grease-stained box and closed the lid.

She nodded, offering an easy smile. "For now. We can always pick at it later if we get hungry. Right?" she said.

Castle worked to contain the sudden flash of optimism at her talk of 'later.' He opted for a little classic banter to mask the lightness in his voice. "Kate Beckett likes cold pizza. Good to know."

"Kate Beckett likes _any_ kind of pizza. I'll bet you make homemade too."

"It has been known," he admitted, offering her a sly smile and a hand to help her up off the floor.

They were both standing now, Castle with their leftovers, while Kate gathered up the plates and napkins, mostly for something to do with her hands.

"So…what now?" Castle asked, as they left the study and headed to the kitchen to tidy up.

Kate tipped the crumbs and paper napkins in the trash and then she loaded the plates into the dishwasher. Stalling.

"You mentioned you rented out your place?" Castle said, detouring back to an unexplored point in their long and winding afternoon discourse. "Did I hear right?"

Kate leaned back against the island, her elbows resting on the smooth surface, and then she smiled to herself as she looked down at her feet, nodding. "Airbnb," she admitted, grinning wider when Castle let out a low whistle.

"That does _not_ sound like you."

A laugh of surprise bubbled out of her and she tucked her hair behind her ear, grinning as she cocked her head to one side. "Why not? And…not that I'm disagreeing with you. I just want to hear your take."

"You," he said, waving a hand that swept the full length of her body, the gesture perhaps more desirous than he intended. "So fastidious about…well… _everything._ How can you stand to have complete strangers sleeping in your bed and using your shower and…oh yuck the—"

Kate covered her ears to save herself from hearing anymore about strangers in her home. "Stop!" she pleaded. "I know. I know. I can't bear to think about it."

"So why go there?"

She shrugged, a look of quiet desperation flitting across her face, giving away her state of mind at the time. "I needed to leave in a hurry and I didn't know how long I'd be gone. The money was pretty good and finding a sublet at such short notice with a sketchy lease length…" She chewed her lip. "This seemed easier."

"And now?"

"I feel like calling in a fumigator and tossing all my furniture." She laughed at her own stupidity, glancing sidelong at her partner as she did so.

Castle winced. "That bad?"

Kate scuffed the floor with the toe of her shoe. "I haven't exactly seen it yet, so there's a chance I'm overreacting. Who knows, maybe Martha Stewart travels under the assumed name Harmony Lee. But I doubt it."

"You never know. There might be a fresh batch of cupcakes sitting on the counter and a some hand-stitched drapes hanging in your bedroom."

"Nice thought. But, as I said, unlikely."

"How long before they move out?"

"Wednesday. I have a cleaning service coming…so…Thursday night I can move back in." She looked a little uncomfortable as she explained this.

Castle's brow slowly knit together in puzzlement, as if he'd just figured out a wrinkle in her plan. "So…wait. You came back from Maine with nowhere to stay?"

Kate's face went pink. Suddenly her shoes and Castle's floor seemed incredibly interesting. "I had a vague plan. It just didn't pan out," she explained reluctantly.

"And last night? Where'd you go?"

"Lanie put me up. She caught up with me after I left the precinct. We went back to her place. Drank Javi's secret stash of _very_ expensive Tequila." She grinned at him, her eyes dancing with a cheeky mischief he had missed seeing on her face of late.

"Javier keeps Tequila at Lanie's?"

"That's all you're interested in?" Kate teased, watching him with amusement. He looked so impossibly good, lounging in the kitchen. As powerful with a dish towel draped over his shoulder as any man who needed a gym and a punchbag to prove their masculinity.

"Well, by now I know better than to ask what you and Lanie talked about." He could see Kate watching him and her expression intrigued him. His brain wanted to downplay her interest but his body and his heart were threatening to break into a canter.

"But if you were to ask…" Kate paused, her breathing suddenly more rapid, breaths shallower. She arched one eyebrow like she was making some kind of invitation.

This was Castle's turn to smile at himself and look down at his…socks. He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell for embarrassment or discomfort. He shook his head from side to side, still grinning. "No, not falling for it."

Kate edged closer. "Falling for what exactly?"

"Inviting me to ask about something like that? It's a trap."

"Or I could just be willing to share my evening with you," she offered innocently.

"You're volunteering to share…" He jabbed his chest, "… _with me_ …what happened when you and Lanie downed a bottle of Tequila?" He shook his head and held his hands up. "No way."

"Do _you_ have a bottle of Tequila?" Kate asked, suddenly lounging against the counter right by his elbow.

Castle shook his head and turned forty-five degrees so that his back was to the island and he could stare out into the living room without looking at her. "Kate that would be a mistake."

With great resolve, Kate ignored the effort to control his voice and the sudden tension in his body. "When was the last time we had any fun?"

"Who? You and me?" His bafflement at her question was telling and painful. Fun was not their default setting and certainly not a regular goal outside of work, and never alone.

The realization was chilling but Kate nodded. Her expression became more uncertain the longer it took for Castle to answer. She had backed herself into a tight, awkward little corner.

Castle paused for several seconds to think. He took so long it was getting embarrassing. Finally he said, "Remember the tiger?"

Kate turned to stare at him, wide-eyed with horror. " _That's_ the last time you think we had fun?"

"We woke up in bed next to one another. You were _snuggling_ , Kate, and we were _cuffed_ together. What's not to like?"

"Eh…being drugged and trapped in a dirty basement…the _tiger!_ "

Castle grinned wickedly and then he nudged her side. "Don't think I didn't notice you didn't say being cuffed to me was the worst part."

He was flirting with her. Not a shot of Tequila in sight and finally Richard Castle was flirting. Kate took a risk. "So…cuffs turn you on?" she asked, her voice pitched low and sexy without even having to try.

Castle attempted to school his face, but his pupils were huge and the faint sheen of sweat on his top lip gave him away. He shrugged, pitching for offhand. "I like all cop paraphernalia."

Kate smirked. "Para... _phernalia?_ That's quite a mouthful."

Castle turned towards her. They were so close their bodies were almost touching. "Are you flirting with me?"

"You started it."

"Is Lanie expecting you?"

"I hope not."

"Kate—"

Her heart turned a somersault.

"Castle, what?" she asked, fingers snagging in the fabric of his t-shirt, instantly toying with it.

"Have we done...enough?"

She looked up, mystified. "Enough what?"

He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "Have we cleared the air? Are we on the same page? Talking the same language and all those other stupid clichés."

"You tell me?"

The room suddenly felt incredibly hot, the silence incredibly loud.

"I'm serious. Kate, if we do this…" he frowned and reached down to take hold of her wrists, keeping her still so that she couldn't distract him with her gentle touching. "Look, it would kill me to watch you walk away again or…or leave this apartment tomorrow like nothing had ever happened. Do you understand? This is _not_ Lanie offering you a bed for the night."

Kate eased her arms out of his grasp and slid them up around his neck, ignoring the sting in his words. Then she raised herself up on tiptoe so that she could brush her lips against his chin. Castle drew in a shuddering breath when her cheek came to rest against his. "I came back from Maine to be with you," she whispered, her breath a warm puff against his ear. She kissed his jaw. "That's why my apartment didn't matter. Let me stay and I won't go anywhere. I promise."

Castle closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose to steady himself when she grazed his mouth with her own, several tentative, teasing passes. He could taste her, her scent filled his nostrils, her lips felt like velvet. His self-restraint was slipping. He could feel the warmth of her body against his skin and yet he shivered. She was driving him to distraction already, with so little effort. He sucked in a long drag of air and he gripped her roughly by the hips. Their eyes caught and held, both wild and fearful but desperately wanting.

"No more lies, okay? We have to be honest with one another."

Kate watched him from beneath her eyelashes, searching his face. "I've told you everything. But if you need to know more…" She reached up to stroke his face, the caress of her fingers so tender he felt weak at the knees. "Castle, ask me anything," she offered, sealing the words to his mouth with a kiss.


	18. Chapter 18

_Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 18_

The only questions in Castle's mind were the stern ones he kept asking himself.

Somehow, they made their stumbling way from the kitchen to the bedroom. The light inside was dim, the stillness intimate. Kate paused for a second in the middle of the room to catch her breath and orient herself. The warm air was spiced with the delicate, sweet notes of aphrodisiac vanilla. She loved this space already.

Castle appeared behind her, his hands soon upon her, turning her round to face him again.

"God...Beckett."

He breathed these words, raggedly, against her lips, before smothering her mouth with his own. And he delighted in pulling the dirtiest, desire-filled moan of surprise from her throat with this frenzied urgency he could no longer contain.

"Oh, jeez, Cas—" Her eyelids fluttered to a close, drugged by the savage-sweet work of his teeth and tongue over her pulse, the mind-bending suckle of his hot mouth on her jaw, the possessive sweep of his hands into her hair and over her ass.

After a moment, his hands regrouped, fingers tightening even further on her hips. He clutched desperately as he tugged her closer, until all space between them was gone and her stomach and chest were pressed flush against his. Now _he_ was the one exclaiming aloud at the excruciating ripple of pleasure that spread from his midsection on down, this full body contact setting his very skin on fire.

 _This! This_ was how their meeting in Maine was supposed to have gone. Torn apart by her lie and his reaction to it, they were meant to reconcile and finally find a way, clear-eyed and open-hearted, to move forward. At least in Castle's mind that's how things should have gone. That they both handled that time so badly, with rash decisions and harsh words that troubled him still, seemed irrelevant now. Now, in light of the hot burn of teetering ecstasy pulsating through his veins, as Kate Beckett wrapped her glorious body around his. She seemed to melt right through his skin, even fully clothed.

Kate parted her lips in a lazy smile, only to release a shocked, breathy squeal when Castle picked her up and carried her to the bed. He hovered above her, standing between her open thighs as she lay back on his mattress, watching as he planted his hands on the comforter either side of her head. They grinned at one another for a long, peaceful moment, before their smiles turned tender and a little sad, eyes gilded with a seriousness that reflected their memories of the protracted, oft-thwarted journey they had taken to arrive at this point.

"You're so beautiful," Castle said, as he leaned down towards her to steal another breathless kiss.

With his focus switched to the buttons on her shirt, Kate reached for him. Cradling his face in her hands, she tongued his lips to a quivering, glossy shine. Castle took this opportunity to slide his way in, heart thundering with excitement as she responded to the intrusion, stroking deep inside his mouth as she explored with her tongue. Her greedy suction sparked stars in his eyes and hardened his body to an extent they both could feel immediately. Kate's hips sought out this turgid rigidity and searing heat, arching against him with a needy press of her pelvis and the hot work of her lips on his, until he grunted and her breath caught, her mouth latching wetly to the dip in his throat to taste him.

* * *

And all the while, Castle's brain was in turmoil. Twin tracks of thought competed with one another, vying to seize control of his mind, his motivation, even his freaking body. He'd touched her before. Her hand in his, such a special thing. He could still remember every time they'd sought one another out, for comfort, in pain or fear. Their single previous kiss he'd hoarded like a bibliophile with a rare first edition, kept behind bulletproof glass; oh precious, precious gift. He took it out rarely, protected from the light in the dark of night, he'd replay that memory like a movie in his mind until the track wore thin and he needed more and more of her to sustain him. His imagination became his dealer of choice, always ready with a new fix and a steady supply of filmy images. Given his talents, it wasn't that hard to carry himself off to a world like this one: a world where they devoured one another greedily, brazenly tugging at clothing in search of naked flesh.

But try as he might to shut it down, truth and honesty spiked his pleasure with rank frustration again and again, withering his ardor with their needy, distracting whine. His thoughts became the proverbial squeaky wheel. He felt a tightness in his chest, a sickness in his stomach that spun the room and had him clutching at Kate for a different reason.

"Stop," he hissed, in a hoarse, regretful whisper, hating himself even as he did so. "Stop. Please. I— We can't." He shook his head. "Can't do this."

"Wh… _what?_ " Kate froze beneath him with her hands up under his shirt. Playful fingers teasing at his nipples that came to a reluctant halt and were quickly withdrawn.

"We can't. Not until I show you something."

"Show me?" she balked, blinking up at him from her supine position on the bed. "Castle, show me what? Unless it's the Kama Sutra, and even then, can't it wait?"

He shook his head and scrubbed both hands down over his face. "This…this can't wait, Kate. I'm sorry."

He sank down onto the bed beside her and tipped forward over his knees, hands clasped tightly in the void between. His head was lowered so that she couldn't see his face while he stared down at the floor. The air felt like danger and grief.

Kate sat up, pulling the open halves of her shirt around her. She fastened one button to make herself decent and then she gingerly placed a hand flat in the middle of Castle's back. He felt warm, the power of his muscles firm and alive beneath her palm. "Are you having second thoughts?" she whispered, the hope that she was wrong about that ringing clear as a bell in her voice.

"No!" His answer was swift and unequivocal. He risked a sharp glance her way. "Absolutely not," he repeated, with a shake of his head. His eyes were fearful.

"Then…what?"

"There's something I should have told you. Something you need to know."

Icy fear crept up Kate's spine. "Castle, you're scaring me. Is this—" She raked her fingers through her hair. She whispered again, "Is there someone else? Is it Jacinda?"

For a second time she got a swift, negative response. He even raised his head this time to look her in the face. "Kate, no. I haven't… _been_ with anyone since…" He let his head drop slightly, a dead weight on his neck, before he stared right into her eyes. "Not since Gina," he admitted, his cheeks burning with it. With the shame of it all – his need for her, his celibate, silent devotion, the fact of this dry spell in his sexual history at such a prime time in his life.

She nodded slowly, her body flooding with relief at a confession she hadn't realized her heart was craving. "Good." She could admit that much. "Good. Then what? Castle, _what_ is so important that you would—"

He cut her off. "I got a phone call."

Kate let her hand fall from his back and she curled her arms around her own body, the air suddenly chilly. Something, something in his tone told her that this phone call had a great deal to do with her. And whatever it was, it wasn't good. She composed herself. "A call. From whom?"

Castle took a deep breath. "He said his name was Smith."

Kate snorted and turned away, rolling her eyes as she went.

"Please, just listen to me." He reached out, laid a hand on her thigh to keep her there, removing it almost immediately.

"Oh, I'm listening," she assured him. "Go on."

"He was a lawyer friend of Montgomery's. Roy mailed a file. He sent it before he died. The contents…they protect his family…and you. Like an insurance policy. This guy Smith, he has it."

"And?"

"And…you're supposed to stop. Stop poking around in your mother's case and he'll protect you."

"How do you know all of this?" She kept her voice controlled though she felt anything but.

"He told me."

"When?"

"Right after we started working together again." He frowned, clarifying, "He called the day we went to visit the fire investigator, Rod Halstead."

"Why you?"

"Because…because I'm the one who's supposed to make sure you stop."

"Again…why you?" she pressed.

"You really have to ask?"

"Humor me."

"Okay, well…to quote you from earlier. We work," he shrugged, one-shouldered. "You said it. _Everyone_ sees it…what we are to one another. Including whoever's behind your shooting, apparently."

Kate pursed her lips. She sat like that for a second or two and then she got up off the bed.

"Great. And now you're leaving," Castle said, under his breath, lifting one hand and letting it fall back onto his thigh with a smack.

But she merely paced to the closet in the corner and came back again towards the end of his mussed looking bed, her eyes averted from her partner. And then she turned and paced away again, working the same track in the bedroom floor, thinking all the while.

Eventually, when he could no longer stand the silence, Castle asked, "Are you mad? Did…did I mess up again? Because…" He sighed, all out of words for now. " _Dammit_ ," he cursed, through gritted teeth.

Kate inhaled in a controlled manner, letting the breath go just as slowly through her mouth. "No, Castle. I'm not mad." She pinched the bridge of her nose, as if with a headache, her eyes squeezed tightly shut for a second or two.

"You're not?" The writer sounded surprised and then curious.

"I'm—" She turned to face him. "I don't know what to think. I want to yell at you or…or throw something at the wall. But you said honesty from now on. And hard as it was to hear, that's what honesty sounds like coming from you."

"I am. This _is_ me being honest. We were about to…you know." He waved a hand in her direction, gaze snagging helpless with longing on her state of undress, on the sexy peek of her bra where her shirt gaped open and the bare skin of her stomach above the waist of her jeans.

She crossed her arms. "You're going to tell me you did this to protect me, aren't you?"

"Kate, I will do _anything_ to keep you safe."

"And they know that too, Castle, and now they're using it against us."

"Look, I've been a selfish jerk in the past when it came to women."

"So…what? I should be grateful you grew up and turned into a reckless one?" But her flash of anger was over almost before it had begun, replaced with a flood of shameful regret. "I'm sorry," she murmured in his general direction.

His expression turned sullen. "Low blow," he muttered to himself.

Kate raked her fingers through her hair, dragging it back off her forehead. "I am sorry. It's just…if anything happened to you. _Jesus, Castle!_ " she hissed, the full force of that reality hitting her square in the gut even as she said the words aloud. "They _killed_ my mother. They tried to kill me. These guys are serious as a heart attack. What's to stop them taking you out instead?"

"I'm careful."

"You're not even a cop. _I'm_ a cop and I got shot in broad daylight. Or did you just choose to forget that part of our discussion?"

Kate sighed with exhaustion and exasperation and she walked over to the window to peer outside into the darkness. The streetlights glittered down below, while water towers stood out like chubby sentries against the bruised night sky.

"We can't keep doing this," she said quietly, after a moment, her back still turned to him.

Castle nodded. He had expected her reaction to be on the negative side, though as ever he had relied on his naturally optimistic streak to persuade himself it would all be okay in the end. "I get it. I do. I poked around and I screwed up."

"No, Castle. You don't get it. What I mean is, we can't keep pulling in different directions. If we're going to take our…our _partnership_ to the next level, you need to know that you can be honest with me and I'm not going to run out that door," she said, turning to point towards the living room. "But equally, I need you to be open with me in the first place. _Before_ stuff like this gets out of hand. Can…can you live with that?"

Castle frowned, not believing his ears. "So…just to be clear. You're not walking away because I kept things from you? Stuff about your mom's case?"

She sagged a little. "You know what? I'm actually kind of relieved."

" _Relieved?_ " Now he really was baffled.

"Aside from the part where you put yourself in danger, I'm relieved that I'm not the only one who's been keeping secrets." She laughed, a giddy rush of lunacy rushing up from somewhere deep to break the heavy atmosphere.

Castle watched her, warily. "So, if we're both liars that's okay?"

"Not what I said," she chastised, still smiling.

"Okay, well, in the interest of full disclosure, I've been doing some work on your mom's case. Quietly. On the side."

Kate ignored this additional tidbit and made her way back towards the bed. "I'm getting cold," she said, surprising him again.

Castle leapt up off the bed. "I can get you a sweatshirt or...or a blanket."

But Kate caught him by the arm. "I'd rather you come back here. Warm me up."

He did as she asked, eagerly sitting down beside her, and when he opened his arms, with a quiet, "Come here," she willingly crawled into his lap.

They held one another tightly, bodies wrapped up together like so much Silly String; there was no way to figure them out or prize them apart.

"You can show me your work later. I just want to tell you one thing."

He stroked her cheek, eyes hazy with relief. "What's that?"

"No one has ever loved or looked out for me the way you have. You're the most selfless, loyal person I think I've ever known. But if we're going to make a go of things, there can be no more heroics on your part. If I lost you—" She swallowed audibly and swiped at a tear, blinking the rest away. "Rick, my life would be over. Do you understand?"

Castle smoothed the hair away from her face and kissed the very corner of her mouth. "I love you so much."

Kate rocked forward in his lap, tightening her arms around his neck and resting her forehead against his. "I think it's time you show me," she whispered, kissing him back.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: If you've come back to read this final chapter, I applaud you! Apologies for the long delay in finishing. Life sucks sometimes. Anyway, unless you have a photographic memory as good as Mike Ross on Suits, I'd recommend giving the last chapter another scan before you start._

 _Anyone remember sweet Aunt Libby? :)_

* * *

 _Somewhere No One Knows My Name_

 _Chapter 19_

Castle opened his eyes, squirming at the excruciating tickle of wicked little circles being drawn amidst the hairs that dusted the outside of his thigh. He kissed Kate's temple and tightened his arms and legs around her, squeezing her body gently to encourage her to stop torturing him with her neat rounded nails while he peppered her ear and hairline with revenge kisses.

"I feel drugged," Kate muttered, sagging against his body and deeper into his embrace. "Castle, did you drug me when I wasn't looking?"

Castle chuckled. "You're woozy, Kate. Relaxed. If there are drugs involved...I think we just shared the natural high they call oxytocin."

"Mm, I want more of that," she hummed, love-drunk and sated.

They were both naked, lying in bed. Castle was propped up on a heap of pillows and Kate propped up against him. She rested seductively between his legs beneath a single silver-gray sheet. Dawn teased the sky outside with the faint auroral promise of another big reveal.

Kate sighed loudly and then released another in a string of unfiltered thoughts. Thoughts which Castle was thoroughly enjoying. "I don't think I ever want to move again. Does your mom do room service? We could just hide out in here forever."

He slipped his hand beneath the sheet to stroke the flat of her belly, allowing his thumb to tease a slow circle around the sensitive dip of her navel. "The only movement I want you making is that sexy roll of your hips, Detective."

Kate tutted, hoping to sound indignant, but she couldn't fight off the grin that bloomed on her face. So she let him see. With her head dropped back against his shoulder, she flicked out her tongue to lick the underside of his jaw, which was salty with dried sweat and roughened by stubble.

"Does that make me your sex slave?"

Castle grinned at such a sexist idea falling from Kate Beckett's lips, of all people. But he was happy to play along with the fantasy as far as he could push it. "Mm-hmm, I kept the position open just for you," he joked, keeping things light and fun between them, before he drowned them both with the real strength of emotion he was feeling that morning. "And after last night's performance, you definitely get the job."

Kate smirked and arched back to kiss his chin as a thank you. They were both tender and raw, still healing from the hurt they'd caused one another, and still struggling to process the giant leap they'd just made in the space of one long afternoon and evening. Kate ran her fingers up and down Castle arms, needing to touch him simply to prove to herself that she could.

Castle nuzzled his nose into her hair for the same reason. That she wanted his touch, leaned into it, and his newest discovery of all - that she craved him right back - all felt unreal and astounding.

And yes, he tried to keep things light, just as she did too. But in truth there were moments when Castle felt his eyes grow moist and his heart clench, he was so elated that they'd finally made it. And then there were other times when he felt so excited that he wanted to run around the loft with no clothes on, screaming and hollering at the top of his voice with unabashed joy.

Instead, and not to scare Kate off, he took deep, luxuriant pleasure in just lying here with her naked body pressed up against his, enjoying a moment of post-coital bliss that he never wanted to end.

Kate was elated too, in her own deeper, more sedate way. "We still work," she whispered, transferring the attention of her rogue fingers to the sheen of coppery hairs on his arms.

Castle hummed his approval. "Were you worried we wouldn't?"

Kate shrugged, but her stomach clenched at the thought.

"We've mastered everything else," he pointed out, giving her a squeeze when a rush of affection made his insides giddy and his manhood stir.

"Like what? Tell me," she demanded, tugging at the sheet as she settled in for a story from her favorite author.

"Like…I don't know…like the fact that we can read each other's minds."

"Mm." She grinned, getting silly. "What am I thinking right now?"

"How sexy these tan lines look on my legs."

Kate burst out laughing. Castle's legs were tan until the level where his shorts had hit, leaving the skin above much paler.

"What?" Castle protested. "I love _your_ sexy golden skin. Shorts and sundresses are definitely something I want to see more of from now on. And I hope you brought those little red cowboy boots home," he winked.

She smacked his thigh and then settled back down, politely thanking him for the compliment. "What else?" she pushed, enjoying this game.

"We finish each other's sentences."

She wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, most couples don't do that though. Not until they're really, really old. Does that make us weird?"

"Nah, we're ahead of the game."

"Ah! _Precocious."_

"Oh, good word, Detective."

Kate yawned and stretched. "What time is it?"

"Early. Just after six."

"We spent the night together." Kate could hear the amusement and wonder in her own voice and she did nothing to hide it.

"We've spent the night together before."

"In bed," she clarified. "And don't try and act all cool because I know you're just as giddy about all of this as I am."

"Did you just say you were giddy?" Castle laughed gleefully.

"Shut up! That goes no further than this bedroom."

"As I already said, if I have my way, _you'll_ go no further than this bedroom."

"Do you want coffee? I could use some." She turned onto her side, burying her face in Castle's neck and wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Does that mean you want me to go make you coffee?"

She smirked against his skin, teasing his Adam's apple with the tip of her tongue and the scratch of her teeth. "Only if you insist."

Castle groaned and gave her a gentle shove. "Okay. What madam wants, madam gets. Let me up. I won't be long, I promise."

Kate watched from bed while he hopped on one leg in the half-dark as he pulled on yesterday's boxer shorts and then his discarded undershirt. "You hungry?" he asked, lingering because he was simply reluctant to leave her.

"A little," she admitted, lolling back against the stack of pillows with the sheet barely covering her chest. She smiled, watching Castle's eyes fixate on the scalloped hem of the silvery sheet that exposed half her scar but concealed the rosy-redness of her worked-over nipples from view. "Stop staring and go get my coffee, Castle," she chided, shooing him out.

"Don't move. I'll be right back," he promised. He leaned down with one knee pressed into the mattress to steal a quick kiss from her lips before leaving.

Kate yawned loudly and let her head fall to one side. She stared at the growing light filtering through the blinds, feeling no urge to get up just yet. Though exhausted, her body hummed with sexual energy just knowing her partner was near and they had the rest of the day to themselves. She'd found someone she could laugh with, someone who knew her darkest secrets and yet still loved her. They'd shared more in the last couple of days than they had in last four years, and she found herself wondering what took them so long. What had really scared her so much?

* * *

After a light breakfast, they fooled around, lazily making love as the sky turned a deep indigo blue. They took their time, exploring and enjoying every inch of one another. Castle's touch was like none she'd ever experienced – always just the right pressure, the perfect stroke or caress, forceful when he needed to be and frustratingly gentle when he wanted to keep her on edge, teasing every nerve ending until she succumbed to a powerful, shivering climax. She was addicted to his skillful, intuitive lovemaking already, and she made sure she gave as good as she got in return.

Two orgasms apiece and they fell asleep, dozing into the heat of the afternoon, when the sun striped the sheets like a zebra.

When Castle awoke, he lay quiet and still, listening Kate's slow, steady breathing. His brain kept offering up new memories – both images and sense memories – flashes and snapshots, sounds from her and utterances of his own. The moment he entered her for the first time, that sweet, stinging agony of tight intrusion contrasted by the pleasurable glide when he finally breached the swollen wetness of her body and slid all the way home. He remembers his first name, ragged and beseeching on her lips while her fingers pressed into his flesh with a loud desperation to hold on, to cling and possess him for herself, hers alone from now on. Her body's responsiveness to his touch, to every lick, suck, bite, and thrust, left him awe-struck and craving more.

Goose bumps rose on his skin, surprising him from these thoughts, as the sheet shifted over his legs, briefly creating a cool breeze.

Kate had rolled onto her stomach, crawling up the bed on her elbows and knees until she could rest her sleepy chin on Castle biceps. "I wanted this," she said quietly, stretching over to press a kiss to his sternum before peering up at him a little shyly. "For a long time I've wanted this. I'm telling you now because I never want you looking back and thinking that I didn't, Rick."

Castle tilted his head, watching her as he listened. He skimmed her cheekbone with his thumb and she leaned in to his touch. "So…what happened?" he asked, managing to get to the nub of things without sounding accusatory.

When Kate lifted her eyes to his they were clear and wide despite her lassitude. She shook her head slightly and lifted her shoulder to shrug halfheartedly. "I didn't know how to ask for it. And I was still in a place where I knew that I shouldn't."

Castle nodded his acknowledgement, recognizing the truth when he heard it from this woman that he believed he now knew inside and out. "You know, for the record, you can ask me for anything."

Kate dipped her head and skimmed a kiss across the bare skin of his shoulder, letting her lower lip catch and drag across the tan curve of muscle and bone, where she nibbled. "I know that. I do," she explained, stroking his damp skin with her fingertips. "And that's precisely why I couldn't. It would have been too easy to take advantage, to use you for comfort when I wasn't fully ready to commit to something…bigger. Castle, the number of times over the years I wanted to take you to bed—"

He jerked upright, already reaching for her, fingers circling the nape of her neck as he caught her up in a bruising kiss.

Kate captured his chin and one ear to keep him there, coming back in for a softer, gentler kiss. "Don't ever think I didn't want you," she whispered. "But we would have failed and you'd have been caught in the crossfire. I didn't want to hurt you."

When he lay back down he took a moment to think about what she'd just said, before he asked, "And what about now? What makes this any different?"

"I'm not perfect. But I figure you know that by now. I've put in a lot of time…in therapy, trying to work through my issues. But it was time to take a chance on us or let you go for good. I could see that's where we'd reached. I haven't been fair to you and I'm tired of watching us both sleepwalk through life alone. We're good together when it comes to so many things, Castle. Maybe we'll be good at this too."

His next question came out of left field. "Apart from Will, have you ever been in a relationship you thought might go somewhere?"

Kate bit her lip at this serious question and shook her head. "I was emotionally…arrested…" she shrugged, "…frozen, whatever you want to call it, after my mother died. Once I entered the Academy, showing fear or weakness…even letting my grief in for a second meant potentially being picked on, singled out for bullying or…or it meant guys not wanting to partner up. No one wants to see weakness before you prove yourself on the street. So I locked my feelings away. It was just safer that way."

She closed her eyes for a second, smiling reflexively when Castle stroked her hair and nuzzled her cheek. His touch soothed her and it made talking about this difficult period in her life so much easier. She felt the words flow in a way she hadn't even been able to offer her therapist.

"Even later…when I hunted down her file and Montgomery found me…I was treating her case like some exercise to help me with the Detective Exam. It was a personal quest and it consumed all of my thinking, don't get me wrong. But, Castle, I treated it like a _job_ , like a puzzle I had to solve."

She sounded faintly disgusted with herself.

"I…I looked at those crime scene photos over and over, until I knew them so well I saw them in my sleep. I forced myself to just _stare_ at the detail until I could look at them without tears in my eyes. And then my mind became sharper, more focused on the facts, without the horror and injustice of it all to distract me from what needed to be done."

"Sounds like a difficult time."

"Yes. But that's how I knew I could do this job and be good at it. But what I was doing to myself…" She shook her head. "Didn't make for good girlfriend material."

She knew what they were doing. They were unloading the bad bits, unpacking personal history to expose all their dark corners for the sake of openness and honesty, hoping the other didn't turn away at the last second, horrified by what they'd seen. This was her turn. Castle's secrets would come out in time. They were beginning a process that would run for the rest of their lives. It felt liberating. He was the only man on earth she could imagine telling these things to, so she pushed herself a bit further.

"I should have been having fun in college back then, picking majors, going to parties, dating, falling in love with the wrong boy. Instead, I took all the pain that I felt and I let it drive me."

She smiled at him, toying with his fingers.

"I wasn't always the badass detective you love to write about. I was this scared teenage girl from a good home, loving life in California. I had a 3.9 GPA, was on a career track to Yale Law. What did I know about the streets? About drugs and gangs and prostitution? But I just had to do it. I had to learn. After she died, there was no other choice for me. Cops weren't gonna get her justice. I was pretty sure we didn't even have access to most of the evidence. Either that or they never collected it in the first place. We became a nuisance to them pretty quickly. You could tell. The unreturned phone calls, the meetings they were too busy to attend, the look in their eyes when my dad and I showed up at the precinct one day—"

Kate paused at the black memory, her brow knitting into a frown as she shook her head. "I'll never forget being made to feel like _we_ were the problem. Not whoever did this."

She took a breath and cleared her throat. "That's why I vowed that when I became a detective, I would treat each case with care. No victim's family would ever see that look in my eyes or listen to me sigh when they wanted to know more or to tell me how much their loved one meant to them."

Castle squeezed her shoulder. "If it's any consolation, and I know it's not enough…but you've done an amazing job turning that tragedy into a way to help the people of this city on the worst day of their lives. Most homicide cops never see loss from your side of the fence. That's what makes you so good at your job. I'm not saying you wouldn't have made a great lawyer. I think you'd excel at anything you set your mind to. But you found this job for a reason, Kate, and so I'm glad you decided to come back from Maine and keep going. Even for a little while longer."

Kate nodded.

"You know the LSATs are still out there. If that's the route you want to take down the track. But you and I still have work to do. Your mom's still in line, waiting for justice. If we work together…quietly…maybe we can do it. I want to be there when you do."

"I want you there too."

* * *

Castle sat up suddenly, lifting her with him. "Go get your things from Lanie's," he said impulsively.

Kate watched him, and a smile began to tug at her mouth.

"Can you? Will you?" he badgered her. "Then you can stay here…for a few days at least. Please? We can ride in to work together."

Kate laughed loudly, stifling the uproar with her hand over her mouth. " _That's_ your sales pitch? We can ride to work together?" she chuckled.

"Okay, not my main point."

"Then what _is_ your main point?" she asked saucily, arching her brow to tease him.

"My main point from now on is making you happy, Kate Beckett. Whatever it takes."

"No." She shook her head and watched as Castle frowned.

" _No?_ " he repeated.

"From now on how about we make that _our_ main goal? Making each other happy."

Castle grinned. "I like the sound of that even better."

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur in which they settled into some kind of routine. Most nights were spent together, either at the loft or at Kate's apartment, where they cooked and did laundry, made love and binge-watched TV together.

Their days were still spent at the precinct working cases as they came up. But in their free time, quietly, they worked on Kate's shooting together, keeping their enquiries discreet so as not to alert the shadowy figures who remained just out of reach.

They made an even better team than before, and if space was needed, they took a night off to soak in the bathtub in Kate's case or to play poker with his writer friends in Castle's. Somehow, despite all the years of angst and doubt beforehand, it just worked.

In late September, one of the hottest on record, they invited Aunt Libby down from Maine to celebrate with them. The writer laid on a lavish catered lunch at his house in the Hamptons, though he insisted on making a blueberry pie for dessert, "just for old times' sake." Lanie, Jenny and the boys came along too, everyone dressed up, though Captain Gates made her excuses in order to keep a professional distance.

In a diplomatic move that impressed even Kate, Castle used his charm and the friendship he'd struck up with Libby to reunite her beloved aunt with her estranged brother-in-law. It was an emotional scene Kate never thought she'd witness: Jim and Libby hugging away long years of stony, grief-fueled silence. It finally felt as if her family was mending, after the nightmare that had broken them apart. Her gratitude towards Castle brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat.

After lunch, Libby and Jim took a timeout alone to bury their differences and catch up on the family news they'd missed by being out of contact for so long. They sat out on Castle's grand patio, watching the party, listening to the crashing of the ocean waves, sipping homemade lemonade and sharing memories of their beloved Johanna.

"What a change," Libby said, beaming as she watched Kate in her pretty black dress, encircled in the arms of the writer and with the biggest smile on her face.

"What a change from the girl who came to me just a couple of months ago, begging to stay in my guest room because she wanted to hide out somewhere no one knew her name." When she raised her hand and waved, Kate and Castle waved back.

What a change indeed.

 _The End_

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. And thank you to my good friend WRTRD for her flawless support. Until we meet again. ;)_


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